I May Fall
by ericwinter
Summary: As Darkness rises, the Avengers stand guard over earth. Faced with an overwhelming tide, their only hope lies in a forgotten child, one who will herald a new Heroic Age. It is in the fires of war that true heroes are forged, and Hariel Lokisdottir, the Girl-Who-Lived, has been thrown into their depths. She must grow if she is to survive and beat back the Darkness.
1. The Lost Child

**Hello, and welcome to I May Fall. SO, a few things I wanted to clear up before we begin. Firstly, while this may be in the Avengers/Harry Potter crossover fic, it will also be including several other stories and their canons. This story was, in fact, inspired by another story, Child of the Storm, and I will be trying to do something similar to that, albeit with my own personal twists. If you haven't read said story, the basics are that I will be attempting something wildly different from my usual works in that I won't simply be creating a specific plot with a specific story and goal to work towards. Instead, I will essentially be crafting a universe, in which anything and everything could happen and the heroes face threats on a daily basis. There will be no happily ever after, no resting on their laurels. It is a daily war against the forces of evil, and there is no end to the threats against the world.**

 **Secondly, this fic is, unlike its inspiration, set on the basis of a female Harry-Hariel, to be exact- who is the daughter of Loki. The details are in the story, but you should probably understand that before reading.**

 **Thirdly, well... emjoy, I guess. This is going to be a** ** _massive_** **undedrtaking for me, one I don't know if I will be able to complete. As many of you who read my other works will know, I have a bit of difficulty sticking with certain ideas to their fruition, so I will need the help of each and every one of you to help me continue this. One of the main ways you can do that is by leaving reviews, and I don't mean just "good job" or "Keep up the good work." My imagination thrives on conversation and discussion over ideas and the story, so please, offer your thoughts, you concerns, anything and everything that might push me to write more and more. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed this offering of mine, and I will look forward to seeing your responses. Take care.**

XXX

Stories of heroes can take many forms. THe innocent, neighborhood hero, who saves a kitten from the tree it has climbed, unwittingly trapping itself. Then there are those with great destinies, an epic battle to push the darkness back into its holes, its nooks and crannies in the shadowed corners of the universe. After, they celebrate, laugh, and move on with their lives, content in the knowledge that they have won, that the day is saved, and they can live happily ever after. But there is another kind of hero, I have found, one who puts all others to shame. These are not the men and women who triumph, who break the darkness's back and move on with their lives. Instead, they stand in evil's path, day by day, a bastion of eternal defense in the never ending war for survival. They suffer, they live and they laugh, and time and again they are called to battle. Time and again, they answer. In shadow and in light, in glory and in anonymity, they guard the weak, defend the helpless, and shed blood till it flows in great rivers, crimson and raging. These, I believe, are the true heroes. These, are the world's mightiest. And this, scribed by one who has stood and fought beside them, is their story.

XXX

Hariel Potter was not having a good day. she wasn't having a good year at all, really. From giant fire-breathing dragons trying to eat her, to braving the Black Lake and all its dangers, to a sentient maze bent on devouring her whole and the creatures patrolling its dark paths, the Triwizard Tournament had been nothing more than one giant clusterfuck, determined to break her will and body both. She had endured, however as she always did, with her wand, her guts, and just a hint of insanity.

Now, she wasn't determined, she wasn't enduring. As she watched, from her vantage point atop Tom Riddle Senior's grave, the traitorous rat's hand falling into the iron pot with an almost innocent plop, a wave of agony and fire swept through her, boiling blood and charring bone, and she _screamed._

XXX

There was a loud crack as porcelain met steel floor, and the heads of several Avengers shot up to stare at their newest member. He paid them no mind, however, staring himself at the shattered remains of his coffee cup.

"Loki?" Thor's voice, surprised, snapped the dark-haired asgardian's attention to him, green eyes sharp with a similar emotion. "Are you well, Brother?" There was a moment of silence as Loki glanced down to the pile of porcelain, only the tiniest shift of his mouth showing that the slip had been anything but purposeful.

"I… thought I heard a scream." came the reply, quiet and thoughtful, bringing a much more noticeable frown to Thor's own face.

"There was no scream, brother," He said, and even as Loki shook his head as if to push away some unwanted thought, their audience finally turned away. In the months since Loki's return from Asgard, mind freed of whatever dark influence had tainted it, they had learned it was best to leave these things to Thor. It was none of their business, and they had all suffered similar occurrences. They were used to it by now. Loki wasn't the only one haunted by his past, after all.

Finally the tension broke between the two siblings, undiminished by the ignorance of their teammates, as Loki gave his head a final shake, offering a somewhat sad smile to his brother. "Never mind. It must have been nothing."

XXX

Hariel-or Harry, as she was known to her friends- smiled slightly when the Raven landed beside her, cawing quietly to announce its presence. Such a gesture was unneeded of course, the nigh-on-fifteen year old girl having learned easily in the past few weeks to recognize it, and even spot a few of its hiding places. This didn't stop her from happily reaching out a hand and petting its feathers, earning a semi-baleful glare and ruffling of wings, a reaction that always made her laugh.

Some might find the scene strange, a young girl petting and laughing at a bird, not to mention the creature's allowance of such actions, but Harry had been witness to far stranger things in the last four years, primarily during her attendance of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An intelligent raven was little more than a curiosity in her world, and so when it had shown up just a few days after summer began, she barely batted an eyelid. Even as it continued to follow her around, sometimes in plain view and sometimes from the shadows, she paid it little attention, until the incident which had brought them into direct contact.

The day, almost exactly after a week after her Raven first appeared, hadn't been anything special. Really, the only thing which had marked it out was that it was the first day Dudley, her whale of a cousin, had decided to start any of his usual business that summer. She supposed it could be marked as somewhat of a record; Normally the games of 'Harry Hunting' and insults appeared within the first few days of summer. She had just begun to think it might perhaps be a sign that the bastard was growing up some, but evidently, he had merely been too distracted stuffing his face with food to notice her return. Or at least, that's what Harry was assuming he had been doing. Merlin knows it couldn't have been any sort of _actual_ productive activity.

Regardless of the circumstances, however, Dudley had seen fit to gather a few of his friends and corner Hariel down a dead-end alley. Before the fat boy could throw the first punch, however, Harry's raven appeared out of nowhere, flying into Dudley's face and beating at his head with its wings. This, of course, while not overly threatening or harmful, sent the coward running and crying, yelling at the top of his lungs about how the freak had a demon bird to protect her.

Harry smiled at the memory. Her Raven had been careful not to leave any marks, so Dudley was left with no proof to his claims. Even Petunia, always ready to blame her for any sort of freakishness, found it hard to believe that Hariel would be capable of setting a bird on Dudley. Or perhaps it was more a belief that nothing could possibly want to protect a freakish little monster such as her. Either way, Hariel was glad to escape punishment.

"Oy, freak!" Harry glanced up suddenly from the swing she was sitting in, grimacing as she saw Dudley approaching. He was surrounded by members of the his gang, and a shard of fear shot through her as she noticed their cruel smiles and popping knuckles. This would not end well.

"What is it, Dudley?" The ravenette asked, rising from her seat slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the bird fly away, taking up position in a nearby tree. Her attention was drawn from it, however, as Dudley moved into her personal space, forcing the smaller girl to take a step back. Her eyes were wary as they flicked from side to side, widening minutely when the goons started to slowly surround them. What was this?

"I just thought I'd come say hi, cousin," said Dudley, and Hariel frowned at his patronizing tone. "You looked lonely." Harry's leaf green eyes hardened when the boys laughed, as if their leader had just made some great joke. The idiot was angling for something, she could tell. The only question was, what?

"I'm fine, Dudley. We both know you don't give a damn about me." she relied, tone sharp and cold. She started to turn, intent on walking away so she wouldn't have to deal with this mess, but she had barely moved before she felt something scrape against her ass, making her jump in surprise.

"Aww, don't worry, baby, we just wanna keep you company." Hariel froze , true fear spiking into her veins as several of Dudley's friends leered at her, while their leader watched with a smug smile.

"Shove off, you smarmy gits," She growled, before dodging another swipe. From afar, she heard a loud caw, piercing and angry, but the raven-haired girl barely noticed, her attention too focused on trying to slap the wandering hands away.

"Don't worry, they'll be gentle." Said Dudley, and Harry's leaf-green eyes snapped to his. "Better than Cedric, I'll bet." Hariel stilled as the name slipped off her cousin's tongue, so blaise and disrespectful. When the next swipe came, she didn't even react, and the owner of the hand laughed as he gave her ass a firm squeeze. For just a second, Dudley joined in, mirth in his eyes as he threw back his head, thinking he had won, that Harry had given up. He was wrong.

The next instant, DUdley's head snapped back down, expression morphing into one of terror as he felt the thin stick of wood that had appeared in Harry's hand pressing into his throat. His dull brown eyes widened with fear, and Hariel felt a surge of satisfaction break through the burning anger consuming her. "Where did you hear that name?" The question was quiet, her voice cool and calm as she asked, but it carried a sharp edge that instantly quieted the riotous laughter around them. For a moment, Harry felt the world contract, until it was just her and Dudley, her cousin's goons retreating a step back unconsciously. Their leader had warned them abo0ut her 'stick', as he called it, a tool for her utter freakishness. Most had been sceptical at the time, but after that freak bird attack… scepticism had turned into quite understandable caution.

"Nuh-nuh-nowhere." Dudley managed to stutter out, and Harry smirked as she watched him go cross-eyed trying to look at her wand. On impulse, she gave a little jab, not enough to to damage but it certainly got Dudley's attention as the tip poked into his throat.

"You're lying," She said, eyes narrowed. "I don't like liars." Dudley gulped finally, his eyes rising slowly to meet Hariel's, and she exulted in the fear she saw there. On any other day,. With any other person, the girl might have felt a little bit guilty about causing such an emotion, she thought. In fact, she had spent a great deal of the last few years trying _not_ to scare the people around her. But these last few weeks, returning to the Dursley's to suffer once again under the yoke of their oppression. Something in Harry had changed. An anger, slowly smoldering, had been building up inside of her, stoked both by the lack of news from her friends and by her treatment at the hands of Dudley and his ilk. Something had awoken inside Hariel this summer, and now, that anger exploded, righteous fury rolling off her in a wave of pure magic.

Dudley's entire gang were thrown backwards suddenly, skidding along the hard ground for a good ten meters outwards, leaving only Harry and their leader standing, the latter still held at wand point. She grinned then, a wicked thing that loosened its target's bowels and set his legs shaking, and drew back, the words of a rather nasty curse on the edge of her tongue. She didn't particularly care about the statute of secrecy at that moment. If anything, she felt it perfectly within her rights to defend herself, and the Ministry be damned. What little of her brain was left functioning normally had already half-formulated plans to find Sirius if such proved necessary, and join him in hiding.

Before Hariel could deliver her curse however, she stopped, as a wave of cold struck her. The anger was washed away in an instant, replaced by bone-chilling fear. She knew that cold, that wet, clammy feeling and the edge of despair worming its way into her mind. She looked up into the sky, forgetting for a moment the boy in front of her, and her eyes widened when she saw the tell-tale clouds forming, and night falling far quicker than it naturally should. _Oh shit._

"Run." The word slipped out, quiet and fearful, and Hariel focused back on her cousin, who was staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. "Run!" She said again, this time a shout, and thankfully it was enough. Dudley turned and fled without a second thought, Harry following right behind, only pausing to throw a glance at the goons still groaning on the ground. She pushed them out of her mind, however; More than likely, the dementors were after her, and none of them appeared to injured to make a break for it if necessary.

By the time they reached the underground tunnel, Dudley was heaving and huffing, clearly out of breath. Hariel, surprisingly, was not. In fact, she felt far better than she should, a strange warmth in her chest warding off the usual chill that accompanied a dementor's presence, and a thrumming energy coursing through her entire body, leaving the girl practically bouncing on her feet. It didn't stop the dread, however, and she came to a cold freeze as they entered the tunnel, terror flooding her at the sight awaiting them.

"Wait, stop!" She cried, hand shooting out in an effort to grab dudley's arm, but it was a vain attempt. The much larger boy shrugged off her warding hand, continuing to move forward. Hariel could only watch helplessly as the wraiths, waiting for them with their long black cloaks billowing behind, turned to face Dudley. There were two of them, a small part of her mind noted, only two. She had faced far worse. That didn't help dudley though, and before she could react, one of the monstrous creatures shot forward, a single clammy hand grasping his throat and shoving him into the wall.

Hariel's wand slid out of her sleeve and into her hand, but before she could move to save Dudley, the other dementor moved, flying with unholy speed to intercept.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry reacted on instinct, throwing her magic into the spell that had become easy as breathing to her. The familiar white stag, proud and majestic, appeared in an instant, catching the dementor on its horns. It bucked, throwing the monster down the tunnel where it released an unearthly screech. Harry paid it little attention, however, turning her attention-and the patronus- towards the demon that held her cousin in its grasp. She cared little for Dudley, sure, but he was still an innocent in the loosest terms, and he didn't exactly deserve to have his very soul devoured by a creature like the dementor. So, with just the barest hint of reluctance, The stag crashed into the dementor, throwing it away and allowing Dudley to drop to the floor like a sack of bones.

Hariel surveyed the scene as her patronus returned to her side, snorting two dementors, surprisingly, hadn't run. Instead they hovered at just outside the range of her patronus, seeming almost to glare at she could think of a way to get rid of them, however, she heard a flap of wings, and turning her head to the side slightly, saw a dark form go shooting past her shoulder. Her jaw dropped as she watched the raven, _her_ raven, land in front of her, cawing in anger at the dementors. Harry took a step forward, determined to rescue the idiotic bird before the dementors swatted it aside like nothing more than an irritating fly, but then stopped, eyes widening in shock.

Smoother than even Sirius's transformations, the raven grew turning from bird to man in the blink of an eye. He was handsome, Hariel couldn't stop herself from thinking, with sharp, aristocratic features and piercing green eyes just a few shades darker than her own. His hair, as well, was black like hers, though far neater, once again aristocratically composed. He seemed vaguely familiar, she thought, as the man stepped forward, a vicious fire burning in his eyes. That thought was pushed aside, however, as her jaw dropped at his next action.

With a silent gesture, There was a pulse of power, stronger than almost any Hariel had felt before, and the dementors were sent careening down the tunnel, screeching as they went. They crashed into the far wall, the force of the impact shaking the earth around them. Hariel opened her mouth to say something, perhaps even a warning to be careful, but the words died in her throat as the man's hands, outstretched from the spell, twisted, and the wraiths came flying back, before halting directly in front of him. A savage grin twisted his lips them, predatory and dangerous, and he snapped his was a flash of light, Hariel's eyes snapping closed to protect them, and by the time she opened them again, the dementors were ravenette shivered as the remnants of that last spell washed over her. _Holy shit._ She hadn't even known dementors _could_ be destroyed. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous. _Very_ dangerous.

As Hariel struggled to comprehend what she had just seen, the man in question turned, green eyes narrowing on her. Surprisingly, however, they were no longer angry; in fact, she would even say they carried an edge of concern, something supported by the frown that had claimed his face. He took a few steps forward, until he was right in front of her, and in a movement that seemed almost unconscious, his hand reached up to touch her cheek. Hariel, still in shock from what she had just seen and extremely wary of the power this man held, just barely managed to hold back a flinch. What the hell?

"Who are you?" the question fell past her lips unbidden, and the man paused mid-stroke, the sudden tenderness that had appeared in his eyes turning to surprise. A second later, it shifted again, this time into thoughtfulness, and the hand dropped as he shifted backwards a step. His head tilted, a questioning expression on his face as he regarded her for a second, before it smoothed out, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I am your father."

XXX

Hariel stared at the man in front of her, struggling to comprehend the words he had just spoken. Her father? What in the name of Morgana's tits was he talking about?

"You're joking." She said, the only real words that came to mind. She almost regretted them, when she saw a flash of anger cross the man's face, but it disappeared a second later, replaced by dry amusement.

"I assure you, I am not." Harry's brow furrowed as he replied, a tiny part of her marveling at the soft silkiness of his voice. The other, much larger part, however, was in turmoil, confusion waging war with surprise and anger.

"My father's dead." She said, leaf-green eyes suddenly narrowing as they met the man's emerald. A wave of annoyance swept over her as the hint of a smile he had been wearing stretched, becoming much more solid.

"James Potter, the man you thought was your father is, yes. You have been misinformed, however." The words struck Hariel like a tidal wave, setting her rocking back on her heels. Dear Morgana, he was serious. Before she could say anything else, however, the man looked away, eyes flickering over Dudley in the corner and the spot where the dementors had once been. "I shall explain later, however. We must leave before any more of those… _creatures,_ come. Take my hand, I shall take you somewhere safe."He spoke with such confidence, Harry almost actually listened, her hand rising unconsciously for a second before she noticed and stilled. She opened her mouth to say no, but then stopped, hesitating. He _did_ have a point, regardless of whether the man was batshit insane. Dementors, in Hariel's experience, traveled in packs. Where there was one or two, there was always more. And as much as she would like to write this man claiming to be her father off as crazy, he had enough power to actually _destroy_ a dementor. Perhaps it would be safer for the moment to stay with him. There was something else, however.

"What about Dudley? We can't just leave him here." At her question, the man threw another glance over the boy, who was still moaning in the corner, disgust evident in his expression. Another look at Harry, however, revealed only determination, and finally he sighed.

'Very well." He snapped his fingers, and once again Harry's jaw dropped as her cousin disappeared, leaving only the displaced dust in his wake. "The boy has been returned to his home, perfectly safe. He will not be in the best of shape, but will recover, eventually. May we leave _now_?"Hariel smiled at the hint of exasperation spilling into the man's tone. It sounded almost familiar, like she herself would sound when trying to drag Ron or Hermione from the table or library, respectively, and she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her when she saw his expression.

"I suppose." She said, after a cursory glance over the tunnel to fortify herself. Perhaps Hermione did have a point; she always said Hariel was far too reckless for her own good. What could possibly be more reckless than running away with a strange man who claimed to be your father?

The man smiled as he took her hand, a real, true smile, and Harry found herself gasping at the sight of it. Truly, he was a different man in that moment. During the short time she had known him, excluding the period where she thought him nothing more than an intelligent raven, there had been an edge to him, a sort of quiet power in his every word or action that screamed ' _Dangerous'._ With his smile, however, that edge was washed away, replaced with a sparkle in his emerald eyes and the slightest softening in the angles of his face. The actual difference wasn't all that much, but the effect was immense, and Hariel found herself wondering just how often he smiled like that.

Harry found herself forgetting all about smiles an instant later when the man snapped his fingers. For an instant, the young woman felt like she was floating, the very earth pulled out from under as hung weightless in the air. Then, like a train slamming into a brick wall, reality came rushing back, and she stumbled, falling to her hands and knees. Harry shook her head, fighting to regain her bearings. Only when she had did she realize that the ground underneath her was not the dirty earth, as it had been mere moments before, but cracked concrete, sun-beaten and thought kicked in all her other senses, and once again Hariel's senses were swimming as she was assaulted by the sounds and smells of a bustling city.

"Careful. The first time can be somewhat disorienting." She looked up to see the man, green eyes filled with mirth, watching her as she struggled to stand, an offered hand waiting before her. For a second, she was tempted to deny the help, pride warring with sensibility, but finally she took it, allowing him to pull her up with surprising strength for his slim wobbled a bit at first, but it only took a moment before she was feeling at ease once again, and another before she was perfectly steady on her feet.

"Let's… not do that again, yeah?" She said, offering a wry smile at the man's answering chuckle.

"Do not worry. It gets easier with time and practice."Hariel nodded, though she silently doubted. _Right, because getting ripped out of reality and then shoved back in is ever easy._ At least, that was what she assumed happened. It certainly felt that way at least.

"So, where are we, exactly?" She asked, pushing her musings on their method of travel aside as she glanced around. It seemed to be a city of some sort, with lots of skyscrapers and fancy building…

"New York City." Not to far from the Avenger's tower, our eventual destination." Harry's eyes flicked to the man, wide with surprise, but he seemed perfectly nonchalant about going to see some of the most famous people in the world.

"Why?' She asked, blushing slightly when the question came out as a high-pitched squeak. The blush became even more pronounced as he turned to look at her, eyes dancing with amusement.

"I live there." He said simply, before chuckling when her jaw hit the floor for what was probably the millionth time in ten minutes. Then, without warning, it suddenly snapped up, and her eyes narrowed, before Harry took a step closer, invading his personal space. She studied him for a second, before lurching back, eyes wide with shock.

"You're fucking _Loki_!" She shouted, scrabbling backwards until she was pressed up against the the brick wall of the alley they were currently in. Loki, for it was certainly him, winced as a few passersby noticed the shout, looking up to gaze at them swiftly, he grabbed Hariel's arm and pulled her deeper into the alley, casting a minor illusion to direct attention away from them.

"I would _appreciate_ it, if you didn't go yelling my name like that." He hissed into her ear, before releasing his grip. She stumbled away, spinning to face him with wide eyes and her wand in her hand.

"I'm sorry," She spat, rage and defiance shining in her eyes as she faced him. "It's not every day a super villain shows up claiming to be your dad." She glared at him, her blood boiling in anger. When she met his eyes, however, that anger froze. The emerald depths were clouded with pain, a sorrow so deep it took her breath away. Slowly, the death-grip she had on her wand loosened, and for just a moment, Harry found herself wanting to hug the man.

"You are right." He breathed, his voice little more than a whisper, but still Harry heard it. "I committed many crimes in my madness, and there is a great deal of blood on my hands." He looked down at said hands, closing his eyes for a second as Harry watched the pain and regret sweep over his face. Her throat went dry. This.. this was not what she was expecting. Before she could say anything, however, his eyes suddenly snapped open, and their focus sharpened as they met Harry's, a desperate fire burning within. "But I am trying to make up for my past mistakes. I am trying to atone. So please, just… give me a chance. That is all I ask." Hariel drew in a harsh breath as his words hit her, and the true scope of their meaning. He meant more than just the destruction caused by the battle of New York, which he instigated. Loki, the prince of lies, was asking her to trust him, trust his claim that she was her father. And looking at him now, searching his eyes and through them into his very soul, Harry could find nothing to suggest that it was a lie. Loki truly believed he was her father, as insane as the thought might be. Carefully, she released the breath she had been holding, then gave him a silent, solemn nod.

"Alright. I'll trust you."

XXX

As they walked through the bustling city of New York, Loki found himself in a rather unprecedented situation for him; Namely, he was incredibly, mind-shatteringly nervous. If he had been told a mere month ago that one day he would be walking side-by-side with his daughter, his actual, flesh and blood daughter, he would have laughed, and then promptly passed them onto the not-so-tender mercies of the asgardian healers who had already worked a miracle in rescuing his own mind from the madness of Thanos. Now, however…

Loki's eyes flicked to his side, a rush of anticipation and surprise warming him just as it had the first time he laid eyes on Hariel Potter. Leaf-green eyes, bright and vibrant as a living flame, were wide as they took in the city around them, just like her mother's. Lily Potter, the only mortal woman to catch Loki's eye in over a century, had been utterly and unequivocally beautiful, and the same could easily be said of her daughter. Lily's high, arched features, reminiscent of the ancient fey, melded perfectly with Loki's own classically aristocratic planes and angles to create the image of wild and untamed beauty. Her long, raven-black hair as well, was a perfect mix between the two, a tangled mess that cascaded down to her waist in a truly chaotic fashion, and her leaf-green eyes, while the perfect shape and color of her mother's, possessed the sharp, deadly edge of intellect that could only be wholly Loki's. Even her clothes, a simple white blouse that had certainly seen better days and faded jeans with small, ragged holes scattered up and down their length, did little to detract from her beauty, and even in some respects enhanced it.

Loki sighed at the memory of how he had first found the girl, in that abominable place she called a home. Despite his claim to Thor several days previous, he knew without a doubt that the scream he heard had most certainly been real, as was the violent wave of magic accompanying it. Extraordinarily powerful, and brimming with agony and hatred, the shock of it had been what caused him to lose his grip on the coffee cup, something no simple hallucination could have managed. For a short moment while his brother questioned him, Loki had considered explaining, but something stopped him. The magic, as swiftly as it had passed, possessed some hint of familiarity to it, and that piqued his interest. So he waved the occurrence away, and when the eyes of the Avengers were no longer focused on him, he set about searching for the source. Thanks to no small amount of foresight, he managed to save a shard of the broken cup, psychically embedded with the magic which had contributed to its destruction. Most sorcerer's would not even think to look for such a thing, and even if they did, could do little with it. Loki, however, was one of the most powerful magicians to grace Asgard in millenia, second only to his father, and only due to a lack of experience. It was child's play for him to extract the magical signature and use it as a homing device.

The search took much longer than he expected, nearly a week from the original incident. Imagine his surprise, however, when he finally arrived in a small british suburb, taking raven form to remain inconspicuous, only to find the daughter of a woman he had long since forgotten, whose magic shared enough similarities to his own as to almost certainly be his child as well. The realization and its implications had him almost falling out of the tree he had landed upon, something that hadn't happened since he first learned to transform.

For weeks, the Asgardian prince had watched Hariel, desperate to ensure his guess was correct, while also fearing the same outcome. Loki had many enemies, both old and new, and if this child truly was his, she would almost certainly be thrown into the middle of every last one of those conflicts. And every day, every minute he spent watching Harry, scrutinizing her every feature, action, and magical nuance, those fears only grew, as it became more and more clear that she truly was his daughter. When it became obvious that he could deny it no more, he despaired.

It was almost ironic, really, that those vile creatures had attacked that day of all days. It had, in fact, been the day he planned to finally reveal himself, though certainly not in such a spectacular fashion; but then, he thought ruefully, such was life when you were an Avenger. Nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. And now here he was, escorting the girl, his _daughter,_ to meet the rest, an act that would almost certainly put her in just as much danger as if he had left her alone. The only difference was, now she would be surrounded by some of the most powerful beings on the planet. He tried to take some small measure of hope from that, at least.

"So, do you stalk all your children, or am I just special?" The crack of Loki's neck was almost audible as he looked up from his inner musings to meet Hariel's eyes, the leafy green orbs sparkling with a surprising amount of amusement.

"You seem to be taking this very well." He commented, brow furrowing as her question finally registered. _Stalking?_

"It's what I do." She replied with a shrug and a slightly wistful smile. "If there's an idea I'm having difficulty wrapping my head around, I try talking about it until it feels natural. Better than breaking down into a gibbering mess as I try and fail to comprehend it." She shrugged again, the small, nonchalant movement earning an amused snort from Loki. That was certainly a viable tactic, he supposed.

"Then the answer would be no, I wasn't stalking you. Merely… keeping watch." Hariel arched an eyebrow at the answer, something that sent a pang through Loki's heart as he recognized it. The same expression had looked out at him from a mirror far too many times for him to count.

"If you say so. I was under the impression that watching under-age girls sleep counted as stalking, but I must have heard wrong." Loki blinked, then blinked again. _Did she just…_

"I didn't watch you sleep." He said, then mentally berated himself for sounding like a petulant child. Hariel, however, merely rolled her eyes, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Of course you didn't, Dad." Her tone was as dry as a desert, the sarcasm Loki had always prided himself on so obvious it was painful, but somehow the asgardian found himself incapable of registering it. Rather, he was more focused on the fact that she had called him Dad. That… that made him feel very strange indeed.

"Exactly." He somehow managed to respond, scrambling to regather his train of thought from where it had gone careening wildly off the rails. He was pathetically unprepared for that comment, spoken with such unconcern that for an instant, Loki wondered if Hariel had even realised what she was saying. A swift glance, however, told him that this was likely the case. Judging from the slight hint of anxiety in her features as she looked at him, eyes sharp as a hawk to read his expression, she had wanted to test his reaction to the word. "I am not a… a _stalker_."

Hariel's eyes flickered for a moment, amusement cutting through her focus. Then she seemed to be satisfied with what she found, finally looking away, just in time for the pair to come to a stop in front of their destination. Avenger's tower, it could be said, was quite the intimidating building. Rising above the New York skyline, it was a beacon of the new age, white and silver outline glinting in the morning sun. For a long second, Hariel found herself simply staring at the sight, awe and surprise warring within her.

"Come. We should not dawdle." Loki moved towards the entrance, mentally fortifying himself for the coming encounter as he went, but stopped when he felt a light touch on his arm. Looking back, the asgardian saw Hariel standing in the same place, suddenly looking just as nervous as he felt, chewing her lip thoroughly.

"Wait," She said, her voice small and scared. "I uh, need to ask you something. Before we go inside, I mean." Loki cocked his head, confused. What was this about?

"Speak." He commanded softly, turning to face her fully. Hariel flushed for a second, obviously embarrassed. Finally, however, she managed to look up from the ground and meet his eyes, her own clouded with a storm of emotions.

"Why… Why now?" She asked, before hesitating a second. When it became obvious Loki didn't understand, she drew in a deep breath, appearing to fortify herself, before continuing, the words coming out in a sudden rush. "I mean, why did you wait so long until coming to find me? I'm fourteen, almost fifteen now, and.. And I've been living at the _Dursley's_ all that time, and you never came and… and… did you not…" _DId you not want me?_ Hariel stopped then, trailing off suddenly as she stared at Loki with pleading eyes, desperate for an answer. It was in that moment that the dark-haired asgardian was struck by just how _young_ the girl was. She had spoken to him almost as an equal, with a maturity and intelligence he would normally have expected from other adults, not a fourteen year old. Obviously she had much more experience than most of her peers, that was clear, but now, looking at Hariel, she seemed like such a _child._ ALmost without thinking, Loki found himself reaching out to grasp her shoulders, before pulling the young woman into a tight hug, even as he ignored her gasp of surprise.

Loki… was not a man who touched easily. Even before Thanos and the madness which had consumed him, he rarely showed his affection physically, more often than not expressing it in words and looks rather than touch. This girl, however, looking so lost and confused and alone, awakened some fatherly instinct in him that he had nearly forgotten in the long centuries, the desire to hold your child close and protect them from the pains of the world.

"Shhh," He hushed, stroking Hariel's hair softly as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Hariel, as well, was being overwhelmed by a rush of emotion, lost in the feeling of Loki's strong shoulder, and his arms around her. As she leaned into the sudden hug, a small part of her, chained and forgotten in the corner of her mind, seemed to sit up suddenly, freed as it hadn't been for almost fourteen years. Ever since she had been left on the Dursley's doorstep, Hariel was denied even the most basic of human interactions and needs, the attentions of a parent to their all those feelings, that sense of complete and unconditional love and acceptance she had shoved into her subconscious came flowing back like a great river whose dam had been burst, threatening to drown her under their weight.

"Why?" She mumbled again into Loki's shoulder, her voice so small and afraid that the man winced. Slowly, carefully so that she didn't think he was angry, Loki pulled her away, face softening when he saw her eyes, shimmering with tears. He lowered them both down carefully as he winced, and the parent and child sat on the small step in front of Avenger's Tower. For a second he just stared at her face, wallowing in the pain it caused him. He deserved it, he thought. Another part of the penance for his crimes.

"I…" He tried to start but then sighed, struggling to put his thoughts in order. HAriel waited with surprising patience, keeping her gaze on his face until, finally, he looked up and met her eyes again, a small fire of determination burning in his own. "I am ashamed to say that the I failed to rescue you from those abominable people not out of any lack of desire to keep you, but rather that I was unaware you existed." Harry's eyes dried instantly as his words struck her, shock overwhelming everything else for a moment.

"What?" she asked, earning a sad smile.

"I was not in love with your mother, Hariel." He answered simply, ignoring her flinch before continuing. "Oh, I could have been, very easily, but I wasn't. My affair with Lily Potter was a short-lived thing, lasting a few days at most. She and your supposed father, James Potter, had … been on a break, I believe you mortals call it. I, as was my wont every decade or so, happened to be visiting Midgard, and she caught my eye with her fiery passion and exquisite beauty." He paused then, eyes losing focus as he lost himself in the memories.

"I used every skill I had, every ounce of charm to woo her, your mother, and even now I am convinced that I only barely succeeded. LIly was a goddess. In all my centuries, never have I come across a woman so intriguing, so very _alive,_ as your mother. I cuold have loved her, had I been allowed. But then she left. I never knew what it was that caused it, but one day, she was just gone. Returned to her husband, I assume. Now, I don't wonder if it had anything to do with you." Hariel shivered as her father turned his eyes to her, pain shing clearly in them. He truly was sorry, she realised. Sorry that he hadn't been there for her, sorry that he hadn't kept tabs on Lily Potter after she left. It was then, staring at a man so broken by the mistakes of his past, and desperate to make up for them, that Hariel decided something, A simple choice that would change her life. She decided that she believed him.

Carefully, Hariel leaned into Loki's side, almost flinching away as he stiffened. She didn't, however, refusing to be afraid, and a second later she had leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing as she felt the tight, powerful muscles. There was something reassuring about that, the thought that this man was her father. She felt safe, sitting there with him, like nothing in the world could harm her.

It took a bit, but after a few minutes, Loki finally relaxed some, and for a time, they stayed there on that curb, appearing as nothing more than a father and daughter, watching the bustle of the city. It was peaceful, he realised, as Hariel let out a content sigh. And for one small second, he allowed himself to forget all the troubles they faced, all the pain and anger he knew still lay there under the surface. For just a moment, he allowed himself to forget, and simply revel in the moment. Until, as a voice crackled over the intercom, that peace was destroyed.

"Uh, hey Reindeer Games? Jarvis says you're sitting on the steps looking all melancholy. And you have a girl with you? Please tell me you didn't finally break and have regret sex with an underager. That would be kinda messed up, even for you." Loki sighed as Hariel jumped almost a foot in the air, mentally cursing Tony Stark. The man was utterly incorrigible.

"Wha-what was that?" Hariel's voice cut through Loki's fantasy's of strangling the Iron Man in his sleep, and he turned a bemused expression to his daughter, lips quirking as he found her looking around wildly in fear and surprise.

"That, daughter, would be a child in a man's body making terrible jokes." harry stopped her frantic search and looked at him, confusion clouding her expression.

"What are you talking about?" Once again, Loki sighed, before taking her hand and starting to move towards the door.

"Come, I shall explain inside." Hariel followed reluctantly, but she still followed, and Loki allowed himself a small smile. Once more unto the breach, it seemed. He could only hope this ended well.


	2. Meeting the Family

Hariel shifted nervously in her spot, glancing towards Loki every few seconds. The man himself looked utterly nonchalant, leaning against the elevator wall, but she could sense the slight edge in him, from barely tensed muscles to the flickering of his emerald eyes. This is it, she thought. They were just moments away from stepping out into the main living area of Avenger's Tower, and introducing Hariel to her father's teammates. The prospect sent an odd thrill through her. Would they like her, she wondered, or would she be met with fear and uncertainty as had happened so many times in the past?

Harry's thoughts were cut off as the elevator let out a quiet ding! And the doors slid open silently. She moved to take a step forward, but paused for a moment as a sudden wave of apprehension swept over her. The next second she shifted backwards, allowing Loki, who seemed to be having his own doubts, to move past, putting his tall frame between her and the rest of the room. This is all his fault, anyway. The girl found herself fully justified in letting him play meatshield.

"Brother! It is good that you have returned!" Hariel froze at the sudden shout, her view of the room blocked as a massive form collided with Loki's in front of her. Her hand twitched, wand sliding partially out of her sleeve, but before she could release the curse on her tongue she paused. Her newfound father was not, as she had first assumed, being mauled, but was in fact being hugged by a massive, teddybear-like man with golden lock of sight of him connected with his words in her brain, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath. This must be Thor, her uncle and the god of storms. He looked even bigger in person than on TV.

"Thor, release me. I do not have time for your antics." The large man, looking properly chastised, stepped back, releasing Loki, although his electric blue eyes still glowed brightly with warmth. Somehow, Hariel found herself smirking at the sight as her father sent him a dirty glare, brushing of his clothes.

" I apologize, Loki. It has been some time since we saw you last." The apology did little to lighten the dark-haired asgardian's mood, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to respond harshly, until his eyes flickered to Harry. In an instant, the forthcoming retort died, and his expression settled into a slightly disgruntled state.

"Yes, well, I have been busy recently. There has been little time for the usual pleasantries."Thor's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Hariel thought he would probe deeper into the matter. Instead, however, the blonde man simply nodded, before turning his eyes to Hariel curiously. As the scrutinizing gaze landed on her, she tensed, her previous apprehension, forgotten in her study of the brother's conversations, stirred once more.

"Would your absence have anything to do with the beautiful maiden by your side?" Thor asked, smile widening. Hariel frowned, however, as she heard the edge of something odd in his voice. He sounded almost… confused? Before she could wonder more about it, however, Loki stepped between them, bringing his brother's attention back to him.

"It would,, although perhaps not in the way you suspect. I… would like you to meet my daughter, Hariel." For a second, there was silence as Thor's expression shifted into one of shock, until from the background, there came the sound of someone spewing liquid. Harry's eyes were drawn to the sound, before widening. She had not, previously, taken note of anything else in the room, distracted as she was by the conversation between Thor and Loki. now however, she stared, wide-eyed at their surroundings.

The back quarter of the room seemed to be some kind of kitchen and dining room area, with tiled floors, shiny counters filled with all sorts of appliances, a sink, and even an island table big enough for a whole family to sit at and then some. Standing at the counter was a short, dark-haired man Hariel vaguely recognized as Tony Stark, billionaire philanthropist and Iron Man. Currently however, he looked no more dangerous than a mouse, hunched over and struggling to breathe as he coughed up a brown liquid that looked a bit like coffee. Beside him was a blonde man with windswept features and sharp green eyes pounding on the genius inventor's back. Her attention shifted away from them however, as she noticed that the kitchen area opened out onto the rest of the room, turning into something more resembling a sitting room with dark wood-paneled floors and variouses couches and armchairs scattered about, some of which were clustered around various TV's with separate , Hariel found the shocked stares of the rest of the Avenger's, from the stone-cold face of a strikingly beautiful woman with blazing red hair whose only sign of emotion was the slight flickering in her green orbs and could only be Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, to a small, unassuming man with brown hair and matching eyes behind, thin glasses that gave him an image somewhat reminiscent of Professor Mcgonagall, who looked like he had eaten something sour. Even the unmistakeable Captain America, with his iconic blonde hair, blue eyes, and classically handsome features, was staring at Hariel, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to find something to say. There was even an orange-haired woman who Hariel didn't recognize, dressed in a business suit and having just entered the room, clipboard and papers held loosely in her hands, though thankfully that one was directed more at Harry's father than her, if only by virtue of the woman not having seen her.

"Wha-what?" Stark finally managed to splutter, and Harry shifted back a step as the weight of all their stares crashed down on her. She had never liked attention- a fact which never seemed to matter anyways- and now, with all these extraordinarily famous and powerful people staring at her, she was consumed by a burning anxiety. What could she possibly say or do that wouldn't make her look like an idiot?

"Uh h-hi." She managed to squeak out, raising a hand before her in a pathetic attempt to wave. After a moment of silence, she dropped it, her eyes darting to Loki's in a panic. The asgardian failed to notice, however, locked as he was in a silent staring contest with his brother. For several long moments, no one dared move, until, finally, Thor tore his gaze away from Loki, and settled a scrutinizing gaze on Hariel.

"Is this true?" He asked, his voice a quiet rumble, and somehow Harry found the courage to nod.

"As far as I can tell." She answered, before looking surprised she hadn't stumbled over her words. Thor's eyes narrowed for a second, assessing, before turning to Loki and giving a short nod. The dark-haired asgardian breathed a sigh of relief at the gesture, all the tension flowing from him like a river whose dam had broken. His emerald gaze flickered for a moment over the rest of the avengers, before he turned to Harry.

"You've had a long day, Hariel. Come, I shall escort you to my room so you can sleep." Harry's eyes widened as he took a step forward, and she slid backwards automatically, hands going up in front of her as if to ward him off.

"Wait, what about-"

"Hariel." Her name, spoken quietly and softly but with a lethal authority., cut through the protests on her tongue, and she fell silent, meeting Loki's eyes.

"You have had a long day, and one full of surprises. Anything more can wait until the morning." For a second, Harry considered arguing, considered fighting back, but as she met her father's eyes and found an unyielding steel in them, she felt her shoulder's slump.

"Alright." She replied, grudgingly, throwing a baleful glare at him. It was a weak gesture, however, as Harry found that she really was tired. She knew, of course, that the adults were just trying to get rid of her so they could talk, but as she moved forward and allowed Loki to place a warm and comforting hand on her shoulder, she found she didn't care.

XXX

"So you have a daughter." The words hung in the still air of Avenger's Tower's living room, thick with a thousand silent questions. Their speaker, Steve Rogers, was frowning thoughtfully as he said them, and Loki couldn't help but flinch.

"I do." He answered, voice even despite the turmoil tearing at his gut. Loki was not a man to get nervous. It was, in fact, an almost foreign emotion to him, but here he was, hanging on the edge of his seat as he looked around at the gathered Avenger's, each one of them with their eyes trained steadily on him.

"Where did you find her?" Loki glanced to the side, where his brother was leaning against a couch with perhaps the only openly curious expression on his face. The man had at first seemed ill at ease when Loki first confronted them with Hariel, but now, after having several minutes in which Loki put the young girl to rest, seemed almost elated at the prospect of having a niece, something he had not experienced in centuries.

"She sounded British," Stark answered before he could. "Almost like a female Jarvis." The man grinned, until the ever vigilant Potts slapped his shoulder.

"Must you say that about every British person you meet?" She asked, rolling her eyes, before offering Loki an apologetic smile. "Sorry. You know how he is." Loki nodded his thanks, before returning his attention to Thor.

"Stark is correct, she was raised by her… maternal aunt and uncle in england. I was alerted to her presence a few weeks ago by a wave of violent magic, and when I investigated, discovered Hariel. I conducted multiple magical tests once I realised who she was. Hariel is my daughter." Thor nodded, and Loki allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. It mattered little if the others didn't believe his claim, but Thor… he needed his brother's faith. Things would be so much harder without it.

"If that's true, then what is your father going to say about her?" Loki's head snapped to the side to meet Romanoff's eyes, her steady emerald gaze burning into him.

"Excuse me?" He asked, incredulous.

"In the legends, you've had children before, and they never got off well." She shrugged, lifting her shoulders in an oddly expressive gesture for the woman. "I know they aren't all true, but if they are… you must have some plan, right? You brought her here for a reason." Loki stared at the woman, shock consuming his mind. Once again, the Black Widow surprised him. So caught up had he been in rescuing his daughter from danger, he had failed to think of the consequences of his actions.

"I… have had children before, yes. I… I do not know what I intend to do with my father, actually. I did not think of it." For a half second, Romanoff's eyes narrowed on his,. Before Loki could muse on the meaning of it, however, she looked away, and the woman's partner, who had been silent before now, spoke up.

"Why'd you bring her here then?" asked Clint, and Loki released a sigh. Here it was then. The moment of truth.

"Less than an hour ago, Hariel was attacked by creatures called dementors. I had planned to reveal myself to her in a more peaceful, manner, but fate forced my hand and I intervened. Afterward, I brought her here for safety and to present her to you all as per my original plan, albeit sooner than expected." The room fell silent once again as his words settled over them. It was a sign of his trust, exposing his daughter to the avengers. Each and every one of them were still perfectly aware of the crimes he had committed, and only recently had the mistrust started to fade from their every action and word. Thor, especially, seemed touched by the choice, as he knew of Loki's past experiences with children. That he would risk a similar fate for Hariel… It was a powerful step, and one he hoped he wouldn't regret.

"Well then." Loki turned to Rogers as the silence was finally broken, a curious eyebrow arched. "I guess that settles that." For a second, Loki was shocked at the sudden declaration, but quickly regained his balance, offering a short nod. Before he could say anything else however, the man continued. "I do have one question though? Did you ask permission her guardians before taking Hariel here, or did you just kidnap her?"

XXX

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Go away!" Hariel's muffled voice answered, a hand working its way free from the tangled mess of her bedsheets to flap at the sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I said go away!" Rage burning, the half-asleep girl shot from where she lay on the far too comfortable bed, green eyes glaring at the sound which had disturbed her rest. A pillow was already halfway to being launched, one slim arm cocked to throw, when she paused, suddenly struck by the oddness of her surroundings. She was in a strange room, wearing pajamas she didn't recognize, and the strange tapping sound, which she had first assumed to be Aunt Petunia coming to wake her, was not coming from the door, but rather a small window. Or at least, she assumed it was a window. It was rather hard to tell through all the feathers pressed against the clear glass.

"Hold on, I'm coming." Harry sighed, carefully extricating herself from the bed sheets. As she rose and ran a hand through her tangled hair in a futile attempt to straighten it out, Hariel winced as memories of the night before came flooding into her mind. Dudley, dementors, The Avengers, her father… She would have to deal with that at some point. For now, however, the raven-haired girl pushed all those thoughts to the side. Right now Hariel had to save an owl from killing itself.

One owl turned out to be five, Hariel found as she flipped a latch and pushed the window open, wincing as the great ball of feathers flopped into the room. She winced at the soft whump of impact, but before Harry could do anything to help, the tangled birds sorted themselves out, albeit with a lot of biting and scratching. For a moment, Harry surveyed the ruffled flock warily, wondering what her chances at just ignoring them all and going back to sleep were. WIth a sigh, however, she pushed the thought away and gestured for the first, a majestic, silver thing that stood proudly despite its unkempt state. Hariel didn't recognize it, per se, but the way its feathers glowed in the cold morning light caught her eye, sparking a mild curiosity in her. The bird gave her a reproachful glare, likely at having been left to wait with the plebeian owls, but luckily it hopped up to her offered arm, holding up its leg. Hariel graciously untied the letter tied to it, giving it a small, appreciative scratch as she did so, before settling down to unroll the thick scroll.

Harry! Answer as soon as you get this. Everyone's going mad trying to find you, and I've been pelted with letters all day! People are starting to say I should be in cabin Six!(They have a thing for owls, it's a long story) Seriously, let me know you're all right. I'm worried.

Hermione.

P.S.

Why on earth would you run away from home?

Hariel smiled slightly as she read her best friend's usually tidy script, scrawled and wild in her hurry. It didn't surprise her much that everyone would go insane looking for her, and as she glanced at the other owls still waiting patiently with their letters, Harry could easily guess what their contents might be. Of course, Hermione was currently at a summer camp in the states, so Hariel had no idea why anyone would think to ask her about Hariel, but then again, the bushy-haired witch was always complaining about the Wizarding World's lack of common sense.

Casting about the room, Hariel took a piece of parchment and pen from the small writing desk she found in the corner, penning a short response.

Don't worry, Hermione, I'm fine. I guess you heard about the dementors? I fought them off and got to a safe place. I won't tell you where, it's not really my place and since everyone else has been keeping me out of the loop all summer, I think it's only fair to do the same. Sorry for causing you trouble.

Sincerely, Hariel.

P.S.

Where did you say your camp was at? I forgot.

That settled, HAriel quickly tied the letter back to its owl, before setting the large bird back out the window. The girl smiled as it flew off, but the expression quickly slipped off her face when she turned back to the other birds. Already, Harry could guess what they contained, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to digging through it all.

True to form, the first three owls consisted of little more than panicked warnings and reassurances that all would be well as long as Hariel stayed put at the Dursley's. The girl assumed most of these were sent only moments after there had been word about the attack, as their tone suggested a certain amount of panic, and anything later would probably be asking for her whereabouts once everyone in Britain realized she was no longer there. The last, however, delivered by a proud-looking eagle owl, set her blood boiling as she read the stiff, formal words.

"Those fucking bastards!" With an enraged shout, Harry threw the parchment away and made to punch at the wall, only for her hand to suddenly be caught an inch away. Surprised, she blinked at the sudden worried visage of Loki, who was frowning as he held the appendage in a tight grip. He was silent as Hariel gaped at him, his sharp emerald eyes roving over the room, littered with shed feathers and discarded parchment, before landing on the letter she had just thrown away.

"Bad news, I take it?" He asked with a surprising amount of amusement. Harry, frowning, tore her arm out of his grip, crossing it with the other.

"I'm being expelled from Hogwarts." She muttered, glaring balefully at a blank space on the wall. It was odd, she thought, how easily they slipped into the play. Already, she was acting the moody teenager, fearful of disappointment from her father.

"Hogwarts?" Loki asked, and her eyes shifted to focus on him. "You are a student there?"

"Of course I'm a student." Hariel answered, finally rolling her eyes as a small amount of tension slipped from her at the absurd question. "Or at least, I was. Where else would a witch go to school in Britain?" Her father cocked an eyebrow at the sarcasm thick in her voice, but smiled slightly.

"I did not mean it like that, Hariel. I was only surprised the old castle hadn't crumbled already. It's been centuries since I last set foot there."

"You've been to Hogwarts?" Harry gasped, eyes wide. She hadn't known that. Loki smirked mysteriously at the reaction, causing Hariel's eyes to narrow.

"It is rather difficult not to visit a place you helped build." He said, his own sarcasm somehow even more prominent than Harry's had been a moment later. The teenage girl couldn't only stare at him in awe as she processed the words.

"You… you helped build Hogwarts?" She breathed, thoughts and images of the grand, majestic castle flitting through her mind. The sheer amount of power required to do such a thing must have been immense, and to think her father had helped? Suddenly she felt very smalling sitting on the bed before him.

"Designed the wards myself." Loki answered, with just a hint of smugness. "But that is not important at the moment. You say you were expelled?" Hariel nodded at the dangerous edge his words suddenly carried, the flicker of anger in his eyes like a bolt of lightning.

"We're not supposed to cast spells outside of school." She answered, passing over the parchment with the form al declaration from the Ministry of Magic. "The other letters say Dumbledore-my headmaster- and others are working on getting me a trial, but I doubt it will work. The Ministry sort of hate me right now, and would love to see me expelled. In fact, they're probably the ones who sent the dementors." The instant she said it, Hariel regretted her words. Loki's eyes darkened with rage, and Harry's own widened as a sudden weight settled around them, magic thick in the air.

"If you will excuse me, Hariel, it appears I have a few things to attend to." He said suddenly, and Harry sent a spike of fear pierce her.

"Wait, what? Dad, don't!" Loki, who had turned to sweep out of the room, paused, his stormy eyes turning back to Harry.

"I will not allow my daughter to be punished for defending herself." The god-and yes, Harry realized with a snap as she felt the piercing cold of that stare, he was a literal god, and angry- stated, freezing Harry in her tracks where she had been clambering off the bed in a rush to stop him. The girl, paralyzed as a wave of surprise and desperation crashed into her, felt her throat go dry as she searched for something to say.

"But-but you can't just barge into the Ministry!" She finally blurted out, but Loki's stare only sharpened even further, until she felt like she was walking on the edge of a razor blade, with bottomless pits on either side, despite knowing that his anger wasn't directed at her.

"And why not?" He asked, his voice a deadly whisper of icy rage, and Harry shivered.

"Because… because it wouldn't work. Why would the Ministry listen to you?" Hariel knew she was grasping for straws at this point, and it showed as Loki's eyes flashed, his lips hardening into tight lines.

"I am a god." Harry nodded slightly, not arguing that fact, but she kept her eyes trained on her father, desperation shining within them.

"One already hated and feared by most of the world, and famous for lies and trickery. Then you have to remember that it's been so long since you walked the earth openly, and even more since you interacted with the Wizarding World…." She trailed off as finally some small amount of Loki's anger faded. The man was still pissed, very much so, but at least Hariel was no longer struggling to breathe under the oppressive weight of his magic roiling around them. He almost seemed to be considering her words.

"What do you propose then?" Hariel rocked back, surprised by the sudden question. He wanted her opinion?

"Uh, well... the first step would be a trial, right? Dumbledore's trying to get me one, so if you could help there, that would be good. As long as I have a chance to talk, we can easily prove that I'm not guilty." For several long moments, Loki studied her, and she could see his anger warring with his better judgement. Harry knew it would be better to play this smart, rather than just cowing the Wizarding World into letting her go. She had enough problems at the moment, and a pissed off deity for a dad would do no one any good.

"Fine." He snapped finally, and Hariel breathed a sigh of relief. Before she could say anything else, however, Loki's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why are you so desperate to settle this peacefully?" He asked. "It would be far easier if you allowed me to handle this my way."

"I…" Harry paused, caught off guard. She didn't want to offend him. "Selfish reasons, mostly. No one knows where I am, or that I'm related to you." She said carefully, shifting as Loki quirked an eyebrow. "I'd rather it stayed that way."

"Any particular reasons?" Harry flinched, but his voice was mostly even, the anger fading away to leave what almost sounded like amusement.

"Well… everyone's been keeping me out of the loop all summer. And then there's the Ministry, who think I'm crazy. I want to see the looks on their faces when they realize I'm not only the daughter of a god, but also when they realize I'm capable of keeping secrets too." For a second, Harry wondered if she had said something wrong as Loki studied her quietly, his dark eyes gleaming with some unnamed , just as she had started to fidget under the discerning gaze, he smiled, a sharp, vicious expression with just an edge of pride.

"That's my girl."

XXX

"What are you doing?" Tony glanced up from the mess of steel and wire in front of him, before lowering his head back to his work. A second later, however, his gaze flew back up again, brown eyes narrowing.

"Working." He answered shortly to the young girl, who flinched slightly. Loki's daughter-and wasn't that a terrifying thought to have-appeared to have somehow wandered her way down to his workshop, a looking vaguely lost as she stood amidst the clutter, scraps and half-finished projects scattered around the room. "Hand me a soldering iron." He ordered, before turning away. Tony didn't know why he wasn't just kicking her out; maybe it was the slight glimmer of interest in her eyes as she took in the workshop, or the genuine curiosity he had heard in her question. Whatever the case, he turned, looking back to the4 project before him. A second later, the genius accepted the offered tool that appeared in the edges of his vision, before pausing and frowning.

"Er, did I get the wrong one?" Tony glanced sharply to the side, where the girl-Hariel, a stray voice whispered in the back of his head-was now looking nervous and apologetic.

"No, actually." He said, as a strange urge to comfort her washed over him. Somehow, she looked adorable looking at him with green eyes shining in worry and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "It's just surprising you know what I meant." She couldn't have been more than fifteen, after all, and a girl. While Tony didn't discriminate, it was still odd to see one of the other gender who actually knew their stuff.

"I read a lot at… the Dursley's." Hariel shrugged, visibly relaxing a bit as she realised she hadn't messed up. Now that he thought about it, she had been unusually tense just the second before, as if preparing for some sort of blow. "There wasn't much else to do, and I found a couple of mechanics textbooks a few years ago." Tony's eyes widened slightly at the hint of pain in her voice, and that shadow that crossed her features as the girl mentioned her home.

"They weren't pleasant, were they?" He asked quietly, setting the iron aside and leaning back against the workbench as he turned to face Hariel fully. She glanced up at him, shock crossing her face.

"How'd you know that?" She asked, taking a step back as once again she tensed up with what almost appeared to be fear. For a moment she looked like a rabbit, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger. Tony's lips quirked, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

"How do you think i built a computer at six?" His voice was layered with dry humor, but still Hariel's eyes narrowed on his face, before widening in realisation.

"Oh." Was all she said, but Tony knew she understood. The man felt a wave of relief crash over him. That was a rare thing to find, he knew. Before he could say anything else, however, there was a sudden pressure about his hips, and Tony looked down to see the girl had somehow crossed the space between them, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Uh, what are you doing?" He asked, struggling to pry her off him. The child was like a damn Velcro, refusing to budge.

"You looked like you needed a hug." She said finally, before stepping back with a laugh at his disbelieving expression. "Careful, you might catch a fly looking like that."

Tony opened his mouth to say something-well, opened it further anyway- before snapping it shut and giving the girl a measuring look. Dressed in the same ragged jeans and blouse she had been the previous day, Loki's daughter looked almost like a normal teenager, aside from her striking beauty. Tony, however, was more observant than most, and he could see the faint sheen of kindness and understanding in the girl's eyes, and he smiled in thanks. When he asked about her family, the man had only meant to comfort her, but somehow this fifteen-year-old girl had helped him instead.

"You're a good kid." he said finally, reaching out to ruffle the dark mane of hair on Hariel's head. She let out a squawk of surprise, earning a quiet chuckle from him, before ducking to the side and giving Tony a baleful glare. He ignored it, reaching over to once again pick up the soldering iron. "Now come here, and I'll show you some real mechanics."

XXX

Director Nicholas Fury was not having a good day. First, Loki had been practically AWOL for almost three weeks, something that immediately set the man on edge. Then, he had been woken up at two in the morning by his brother, a man who Fury hadn't spoken to in well over a decade and for good reason, begging his help in finding the missing Girl-Who-Lived. That, too, set all sorts of alarms off in his head, albeit for very different reasons. And now, as what appeared to be the beginnings of a migraine pounded away in his head, the Director was responding to a level four alert from Tony Stark of all people. Usually that sort of designation was reserved for something just under the trickster god once again going rogue.

The elevator dinged loudly, and Fury stepped out briskly, his lone eye taking stock of his surroundings in an instant. Banner was seated at the kitchen table, sipping calmly from a mug of steaming coffee. Barton and Romanov, twitching slightly as they registered Fury's presence, were seated in two of the various armchairs scattered about the living area, the former playing some sort of game and the latter reading a book written in her native two demigods, Thor and Loki, weren't present, and oddity as there was usually at least one present in the Tower at all times, excluding missions. What truly caught Fury's eye, however, was the sight of Stark sitting perfectly calmly on a couch in front of a television playing a scene from the Lord of the Rings-though which in the trilogy he couldn't place- beside a teenage girl Fury didn't recognize. From behind, all the Director could make of her was an unruly mess of long raven hair, but almost the instant he entered the room she was turning to look at him, and as bright green eyes the color of summer leaves met his, and he noticed the pale, but unfaded scar above them, cut in the jagged shape of a lightning bolt, Fury cursed.

I don't know if I should be relieved or worried. His eyes slid off the girl, who could only be the missing Hariel Potter, to glare at Stark, who had turned to him with a wide grin. Definitely worried.

"Nicky! So glad you could make it. I was just about to make popcorn." Fury's glare intensified, before he sighed and closing his eye, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.

"Stark, would you care to tell me why the missing Girl-Who-Lived is sitting on your couch watching Lord of the Rings?" Stark's smile wavered slightly, glancing at Hariel with what almost looked like curiosity, before turned back to Fury.

"I'm culturing the kid. Can you believe she's never even heard of the trilogy?" The director glared, but before he could speak the irritating man turned fully to the girl behind him, who was now watching their conversation with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Girl-Who-Lived? Really?" Fury could hear the disdain in his voice, thick enough to cut and utterly disappointed, but Hariel waved the question away distractedly.

"A stupid nickname I got for surviving an unblockable killing curse and blowing up the Dark Lord who cast it." She said by way of explanation, but kept her eyes locked firmly on Fury. "You're a wizard?" The director winced as he heard a note of fear in her was not how he had expected his first meeting with the daughter of Lily Potter to go, and the slight tilting of her body as she leaned away on the couch sent a vicious blade of guilt into his heart. The man was a master at controlling his emotions, however, with long years of experience as both an agent and Director of Shield. He shook his head, allowing only a faint annoyance to cross his face.

"Squib, actually." Fury corrected, before turning back to Stark. "Why is she here? And don't give me any of that bullshit about movies. Do you even know who she is?" He jabbed a finger at the young girl as he glared at Stark. There were only so many reasons the Director could think of for Hariel to be housed at Avenger's Tower, and the man found his lip curling at some of the more unpleasant ones. Obviously none of the residents were Death Eaters, and even if they were somehow aligned with Voldemort, he doubted the girl would be happily sitting on a couch watching movies and eating popcorn. That left several far less dangerous, but still just as headache- and rage-inducing, options.

Before Fury could come up with a decisive possibility, he was interrupted by Stark raising one eybrow incredulously. "Do you know who she is?" Fury frowned at the unexpected question.

"Of course I know who she is." He said, shaking his head in exasperation before pointing a finger at the girl in question. "That is Hariel Lily Potter, daughter of James and Lily Potter, and the so-called 'saviour' of the Wizarding World. While I don't buy into that bull, mainly because she was barely a child at the time Voldemort disappeared, she _is_ the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. She also happens to have been declared missing sometime early this morning after a team of aurors were sent to retrieve her from her house to be taken to a safe place and found her gone." Everything fell silent for a moment as everyone in the room, even the three bystanders, stared at him with something akin to shock. Fury had left out any mention of the Order of Pheonix, of course, as Dumbledore didn't exactly know of his awareness that the old resistance group had been reformed, and Fury would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. If the old goat wanted to think he was being sneaky and careful, Fury would gladly let him do so. Before he could continue any further, however, the Director was shocked when Stark, his blank mask of surprise shattering, started laughing.

"Is that all true?" The dark-haired man asked after he finally recovered from his short fit of hysterics, chocolate eyes meeting Hariel's questioningly?

"As far as anyone knows, yeah." The girl shrugged, and for a second, Fury thought he caught some inner meaning pass between the two. He pushed the notion aside, however, when Stark turned back to him.

"You're going to have to talk to Reindeer Games then. He brought her here. I'm just the baby-sitter." Fury felt a flicker of annoyance at the statement, but it was drowned a second later as Hariel, apparently not having enjoyed being likened to a six-year old, threw a pillow to hit Stark's head from behind with uncanny accuracy.

"I'm not a baby, and I don't need a babysitter!" She cried, offering a smoldering glare. Fury then found himself chuckling as her lips suddenly curved upwards, and her head tilted to look at the inventor with an odd gleam in her eyes. "If anything, I'm baby-sitting you." Even Romanoff, normally never one to show such blatant emotion, winced slightly at the stinging comment, looking up from her reading to give Stark a pitying glance. The man himself just pouted, turning a sour glare at Hariel.

"You know, I could just crumple up those plans we made and throw them in the trash." He warned threateningly. Hariel's eyes widened, and she suddenly rushed to apologize.

"No, no, Tony! I totally didn't mean that. It was a joke! Big, not-funny joke that I am very sorry for." Fury frowned at the display as The-Girl-Who-Lived scrambled over the back of the couch so she could bow and kowtow at Stark's feet, murmuring desperate pleas for leniency. It wasn't so much her actions which sent a shard of displeasure slipping through him, but rather the familiarity and sense of amusement she employed tem with. The Director found the frown deepening, as well, when a sudden surge of overprotective jealousy tore into him as Stark laughed, reaching over to rub the girl's head. That could've been him, in another life. Fury could only hope that when she found out-and he had a strange feeling such an event would not be on his terms-the daughter of Lily could forgive him for failing in that regard.

"Enough." He finally said, cutting through the two's antics. The dark-skinned man growled as both-both-rolled their eyes at him, but at least they had the sense to return their attention to him. "Where is Loki?" Fury demanded. Stark, surprisingly, shrugged, apparently unsure of the answer. So he wasn't in the Tower then. Potter, however, winced, looking away slightly.

"Uh, he and un- Thor, I mean, are sort of… at the Ministry of Magic."Fury's focused sharpened onto the girl, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's.

"And why is that?" He asked, just barely managed to force his voice into calmness. The two gods terrorising wizarding Bureaucracy? Especially British wizarding bureaucracy? That could never end well.

"Er, they sort of heard how I was expelled, and went to get me a trial." This time, Fury couldn't help himself as he sighed and rubbed a hand over his it just his imagination, or was that headache starting to come back?

"Fine." He snapped finally, turning on his heel to leave. Damn Loki. Dman him and Stark for calling him here. Fury could just imagine how much paperwork this was going to give him already.

"Uh, Director, sir?" Fury paused to look back at the girl who had called out to him, chewing on her lip nervously. "Do you think you could… not mention I'm here? I would sort of like it to be a secret." For a second, the master spy studied the girl. Long raven hair cascading down her back in a lazy mess, green eyes shining with a light of happiness that did little to detract from the shadows of pain buried deep within but still made her seem strangely alive, and a nervous smile as she asked one of the most powerful men in the world a favor… His breath hitched, so slightly he doubted even Romanov and Barton noticed, and he gave the girl a short nod. It was the least he could do, for Lily. And with that, NIcholas Fury walked out of the Avenger's Tower just as swiftly as he had entered.

XXX

Alright, that is that finally done. I know, a bit shorter than my last one, but this was taking forever, I didn't particularly want to have to start a whole new scene, and I am currently operating on about two hours of uneasy sleep for what is probably nearing thirty awake, so my decision making skills might be a bit shot. In that same vein, I would like to apologize if the last scene is a bit wonky for that very reason.

Now, A couple things before I let you go. First of all, I know a lot of you are probably confused about the whole Harry/Tony scene. Basically, Harry wanders into the workshop while exploring the Tower as Loki and Thor go off to be all 'badass uncle and dad duo', and the two bond over shitty childhoods. No, they are not immediately best friends, but both Tony and Harry have a way of getting along well with people when they want to. It won't be too difficult for them to settle into a comfortable relationship.

Now, because I know a bunch of you are going to take that completely wrong, I'm going to stop you right there. Harry and Tony will NOT be a pairing. First of all, Tony is with Pepper, and it will stay that way. Secondly, he's like at least fifteen years older than her. While I don't particularly oppose long age gaps in relationships-love is love, whoever they are-I am not interested in writing it myself. Their relationship will likely be something more along the lines of big brother/little sister. And while I'm on this topic, I might as well answer a fairly common question among the reviews and say that none of the avengers will be paired with Hariel, although she will have a romance or two(if I can ever decide on who with, at least). I mean, most of them are way older than her, and to that one reviewer who mentioned Thor… dude, he's her uncle. Just no.

Now, I will answer a few of the other common questions. Firstly, while the Avenger's may look at her with a bit of suspicion at first-I mean, who wouldn't?- she will very quickly earn their trust, and eventually yes, will become a part of the whole family dynamic. Not necessarily the team itself, because she will have other things going on, but close enough that it makes no difference. And yes, they will be VERY overprotective of her. As in, break worlds if she gets so much as a scratch. (Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but pretty damn close. Especially Thor, Loki, and one other who I will let you guess at) As for her family… that will be interesting, to say the least. And yes, this is before The Dark Planet, which will probably never happen and if it does it will be so twisted as to be unrecognizable, so Frigga and Odin are both alive and perfectly fine. Her siblings, however… ;)

So I think I will let you all go now,but before I do, Kudos to those who noticed the first sign of one of the major universes I will be including in this fic. You all get a hero cookie! (That might be a reference too, if you're clever enough) Anyways, see ya, and don't forget to Review!


	3. Foreboding

The Aether is a quiet place. As a vast, endless expanse of pure magic broken only by the brief existences known as planes, there was little which could disturb its peace. Thus, when a sound, born of such primal fear and pain it left a chill in the bones of all who heard it, swept across the Blind Eternities, many took note. In one corner of existence, lost amid a forest of diseased trees that writhed with a viscous black oil, the great steel golem paused in its destruction of the plague. Elsewhere, trapped within the throes of folding and shifting time, an ancient dragon awoke, its long slumber finally ended. Another, almost the mirror image of the first, grinned viscerally as an ancient plan began to ripen. And finally, deep within the depths of Aether, where not even the brightest of sparks dared to burn, a twisted angel cackled.

XXX

Thor blinked as he settled from Loki's teleportation spell, taking in a familiar sight for the first time in centuries. "I thought we were to be going to this… 'Ministry of Magic.'" He said, casting his brother a curious glance. "While it is pleasant to visit Hogwarts after so long, I was under the impression we were in a hurry." For a second, Loki didn't answer, his emerald eyes scanning the castle grounds around them as if looking for threats, before finally turning them to Thor.

"It would be a waste of time."The younger brother finally stated, before moving towards the castle, walking briskly. Thor kept up with him easily, listening as Loki continued. "More than likely, My daughter's information is several hours late, at the very least, and I imagine that for a Hogwarts Headmaster, if that position retains any of the political power it once did, securing a simple trial that should already have been granted would be child's play."Thor took a moment to think, then nodded. That certainly made sense. But…

"Why are we here then?" He asked, looking at Loki out of the corner of his eye. Thor's brother was tense, muscles coiled with a nervous anger that baffled the blonde asgardian. By all rights the man should have been overjoyed at the discovery of his daughter, even with the difficulties it entailed. What reason would he have for rage?

"We are here, brother," Loki finally answered as they ascended the steps to Hogwarts' great door. "Because I discreetly conducted several examinations upon Hariel last night as she slept. Her home life was not what one would call pleasant, and I wished to ascertain if there was any permanent damage." He paused for a moment, hand resting upon the door. "What I found was… disconcerting. I have come here for answers." Thor frowned, frustrated at the vague answer, but knew better than to press. When Loki was like this, it was better to simply follow along and find his answers through observation.

With a loud creak, Hogwarts' entrance sung open, the great oaken door otherwise silent as it glided across the stone floor. For a short moment, Thor allowed himself to marvel at the inside. It had been many years since his last visit to the castle, and he was admittedly eager to see how much it had changed. His attention was quickly drawn away, however, by a low voice, ancient in pitch but with a tremendous weight of power in its timber.

"Who are you, intruders, to dare trespass in these hallowed halls?" The speaker, Thor found as his eyes were drawn to the base of the Grand staircase, was an old man, wrinkled with age but standing tall and proud as he faced the two Asgardians. Hair as silvery white as the moonlit tundras on jotunheim cascaded from his head and cheek to a great length, and resplendent robes of midnight blue draped his thin-but-strong form. The aura about him crackled with power and authority the Asgardian prince had found uncommon among mortals, though one which paled before Thor's and Loki's. This must be the Headmaster, Dumbledore, if Thor remembered correctly.

For a long second, the three men stood still within the hall, none speaking. Thor found himself impressed with the old man. He did not flinch, even as both the brothers released their powers. In an instant, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and incense, their aura's blazing around them. Dumbledore's, on any other scale a vast and mighty thing matched only by a few, paled in comparison to their godly visages, blessed by storm and magic. It would not do for them to be challenged in their own creation.

"We, dear headmaster," Loki's voice was quiet as it slithered across the hall like a poisonous serpent, filled with threat and promise, "are no trespassers." There was a long silence as Dumbledore continued to scrutinize them, the scent of challenge still sharp in his every feature. Then, finally, the ancient man relaxed, and released his grip on his magic, breathing quietly as Loki and Thor did the same.

"So it is true." He said, a wizened hand reaching up to stroke his beard. "I had always wondered at the stories of how Hogwarts came to be."There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye now as he looked down at them, with no trace of the hostility which had previously wreathed him like a blanket. For some reason, as Thor watched his brother step forward in response, it felt vaguely as if he were before his own father.

"That may be so." The younger Asgardian stated, fixing Dumbledore with an icy glare. "But we are not here to discuss history. My brother and I have come for answers." Dumbledore, seemingly oblivious to the anger in Loki's voice, smiled, bowing low as he did so.

"Of course, my lords. It is always the great pleasure of Hogwarts and its staff to accommodate any with need, as I am sure you know well. I must ask, however," The old man paused, a small frown appearing on his face. "What manner of information do you seek?"

"Hariel Potter." Loki's face was cold as ice when he answered, but to Dumbledore's credit, his only reaction to the name was a slight pronunciation of his frown.

"Perhaps, then," The ancient wizard said, "We should continue this in my office." Loki nodded tightly, and as Dumbledore turned to ascend the great staircase, glanced sideways to Thor, who gave his own nod. The blonde warrior would follow his brother's lead on this.

It was a long, winding path through the castle's halls to reach the Headmaster's office, but one well tread by each of the they walked, Thor allowed his gaze to wander among the many portraits, statues, and nooks and crannies they passed. Hogwarts was much as he remembered it, though there were a few differences. Many more portraits lined the halls for one thing, added piece by piece over the centuries, but occupants of the newcomers managed to show the same respect as their older brethren at the Asgardians' passage. Certain rooms had also shifted over the years, from storage room, to classroom, to any of a dozen other purposes. What surprised Thor the most, however, was the castle herself. When last he had known her, Hogwarts was relatively young. Perhaps a couple of centuries old at most, in a land dotted with ruins and settlements that had been survived millenia, and still owned by the ancient magics. Now, however, her bones creaked with age, a thousand years and more weighing on the ancient and weathered stones. The very air burned with magic and power to those who could sense it, the legacy of Hogwarts' long and storied past.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered once they had finally arrived in his office, the old man easily lowering himself into the large high-backed chair behind his desk. Both of the brothers declined as they took their own seats. The wizard sighed in exasperation, but lowered the candies back into their spot. For a short second, he closed his eyes, seeming to gather his thoughts, and when he opened them, their was no trace of the grandfatherly twinkle fro the Great hall. "I suppose we ought to get to business, then."

"Yes, let's." Not for the first time, Thor winced as he heard the venom in Loki's voice. This would not end well. "Why don't you start by explaining why young Hariel's magical core was layered in so many bindings it more closely resembled a roll of gauze, and what exactly led to them being shattered in the manner they were?" Dumbledore met Loki's eye for a moment, before loosing a long sigh, even as Thor sucked in a sharp breath. He knew about magical bindings, theoretically, of course. A direct restraint upon one's core, they were dangerous things to use on even a full-grown adult without complications, let alone a child. In fact, they were all but banned in Asgard except in the direst of situations, and even then only the most skilled healers were allowed to place them. Breaking one, even properly, was even more dangerous as it could shatter the core itself, and from the way Loki said it, Thor knew these bindings had not fallen peacefully.

"I will take that, then, to mean you are the ones responsible for her disappearance?" Dumbledore asked finally, flinching for the first time as Loki gave a sharp nod. Only Thor's hand on his brother's arm kept the seething prince from smiting the man there and then. "Your answer then, Loki of Asgard, is that I placed the bindings upon Harry's core in order to preserve her sanity, as well as the lives of everyone around her." Under Thor's hand, he could feel Loki freeze.

"Explain." At the quiet demand, Dumbledore sighed, steepling his hands before him and settling his periwinkle blue eyes solely on Loki..

"In all the lore I have ever read, Mr. Odinson, you are considered to be an expert in magic beyond any mortal standards, and have had over a thousand years to study the subject. In all that time, have you ever come across the term 'Obscurus'?" There was the slightest pause, not even a fraction of a second, but Thor saw it as fear flickered in Loki's eyes.

"Once or twice, yes." The dark haired asgardian answered slowly, focus sharp as a knife as he met Dumbeldore's eyes with his own emerald ones. "Do you mean to suggest Hariel is one?" The ancient wizard shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could, Thor cut in, curiosity overwhelming him.

"What is an Obscurus, brother?" Loki's eyes flickered to his brother, but he didn't answer. Instead, Dumbledore picked up the slack.

"An Obscurus, Lord Thor, is a being of pure magic and rage. They come into being when a young witch or wizard forcefully suppresses their magic, causing it to grow and become unstable until they are consumed by their own power." For a mere moment, Thor felt oddly amused as nostalgia for his long-past schooling days filled him, but the sensation was wiped away a second later as the seriousness of the situation hit him. If Dumbledore was suggesting something similar had occurred to Thor's newly-discovered niece, then there would be Hel to pay.

"And this has what to do with Harry?" He asked, his own voice uncharacteristically quiet as rage boiled in his veins. Thankfully, Dumbledore answered quickly, even as there was a sudden roll of thunder in the distance.

"Miss Potter is fine now, I assure , such was not the case when she first came to Hogwarts." The white-haired man paused, fixing his piercing gaze once again on Loki, who was still stiff. "She was not quite an Obscurus, still retaining her sanity as she did, but young Hariel's core was deeply unstable. I feared that if I did not act when I did, it would not be long before such a transition _did_ occur. The first binding was only meant to stabilise her, before being carefully removed.

"And what, Loki ground out after a short pause, "changed? I found signs of at least a dozen extraordinary bindings, and that was after whatever completely obliterated them." Again, Dumbledore sighed, seeming to slump down in his chair.

"I miscalculated." The old man answered simply, finally showing his age as he closed his eyes wearily. "Within two months of placing the first binding, I was forced to act again as Miss Potter's core continued to destabilize and grow at a terrifying rate. Then again, and again. By the time finally stabilized fully, it was the end of her third year, and even then her core continued to grow at an astounding rate, one which would have been impossible for her to control naturally. At best, she may have laid ruin to entire sections of the castle with even the slightest provocation."

"IT was that bad?" Thor asked, eyes wide. Never had Loki done anything like that, even in his youth. Was the god of magic's daughter even more powerful than him?"

"Worse." Dumbledore answered bluntly. "I once knew an obscurus to lay waste to the majority of manhattan singlehandedly. Hariel, I fear, would have devastated half of Britain, with the potential for more destruction were Obscurials known for rational thought."

"That... is not a comforting thought." Dumbledore smiled grimly.

"No, it was not. At the time, it baffled me that she would have such extreme magical power. Now, however, I believe it may be an effect of her lineage." In an instant, both Asgardian princes narrowed their eyes at Dumbledore as his words registered.

"What do you know, old man?" Loki asked, tone soft and dangerous as a viper's hiss. The headmaster's response was merely to widen his eyes and spread his hands innocently, though Thor could once again see the sparkle in his eye.

"Why, I merely meant to comment on how much like her father young miss Potter appears." It was only when Loki rose, his seat rocketing back to crash against the wall, that Dumbledore's teasing smile fell and he raised his hands. "Peace, Odinson. Lily told me the moment she learned she was pregnant. And Harry's asgardian blood is not the only culprit at work here." The statement stopped Loki in his tracks.

"What do you mean?" He asked, speaking in the same tone as before. Dumbledore, for his part, remained stony face, even as Thor moved to lay a hand on his brother's arm in an attempt to calm him. It was not a common occurrence. Usually Loki was the reasonable one.

"I have long suspected that Lily Potter-nee-Evans was not entirely human. I know not what eldritch race's blood she carried, which now lives on in Hariel, but there were several instances that belied both their natures. What truly caught my attention, however, was something our healer, Madame Pomfrey, noticed at the end of last year when examining Miss Potter."

"Why was my niece being examined?" Thor cut in, and Dumbledore offered him a sad smile.

"Miss Potter has a tendency to find herself in rather harmful situations. Something I imagine she inherited from her uncle." Thor flinched at the backhanded comment, anger evaporating into embarrassment as Dumbledore continued. "You are right to be concerned, however. This incident was vastly different from the previous ones. Not only was it somehow the cause my bindings upon her core being broken in an exceedingly violent manner, but it also resulted in the Dark Lord Voldemort being resurrected."Silence descended as both Loki's and Thor's attentions snapped to Dumbledore.

"I have heard that name." Loki said finally, emerald eyes burning with an odd light that made Thor tense.

"Most likely, yes." Dumbledore answered, nodding. "But there will be plenty of time to discuss him later. As I was saying before, however, there was a mysterious change to Hariel's physiology at the end of last school year, one which I imagine you may find interesting. It would seem she has grown wings." Again, silence reigned, but this time, it was one born of incredulity rather than surprise and confusion.

"Wings?" Thor finally asked after several long moments, his voice understandably filled with confusion. "But I did not see an…"

"You would not have." Dumbledore interrupted, a slight smile appearing on his face. "They are still in the process of growing. I doubt Hariel herself has noticed. It is only because Pomfrey noticed the sudden change in her skeletal structure that I am aware at all."

"I have never heard of anything that could invoke such a change." Loki stated, frowning slightly as he finally returned to his seat. Thor followed, wearing his own frown.

"I believe it may have something to do with the ritual Miss Potter was forced to partake in." Dumbledore explained. "Something happened that kickstarted the hidden genes locked within her DNA, bringing both her asgardian blood and this other lineage into play, or at least more than the latent magical power they had already been granting her." Both Thor and Loki nodded at this. Asgardians had long since known about genetics, and ones imbued with magic did have a possibility of such occurrences. The only question was, what could possibly have been the catalyst for the change? It was only when Dumbledore answered that Thor realized he had been thinking aloud.

"I am not certain of the direct cause, but there are several clues as to what may have occurred. Firstly, there is Hariel's own magical core. Beyond even the snapping of her bonds, which had already been repressing a great deal of her magical prowess, it would seem your niece's core has expanded several times over to quite a phenomenal size." The headmaster paused when Loki hummed thoughtfully, nodding.

"I had noticed that, yes. It almost rivals my own in sheer magical power, a point which did not occur until my late thirties, at the latest."

"It is certainly astounding." Dumbledore agreed. "And an important part of the puzzle. I have also managed to piece together at least some of the ritual Voldemort used to resurrect himself. According to Miss Potter, it was at the exact moment of completion that she felt a change. According to her, it felt 'like I was being torn to shreds and then snapped back together again with a billion rubber bands.'" Another silence descended, contemplative this time, before finally Loki let out a sound of irritation.

"It matters not. What I am more worried about is this Dark Lord you keep mentioning." Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, before sighing, and nodding. There would be little point in delaying the explanation, and Loki would be best equipped to keep Hariel safe if he was knowledgeable of the threat against her.

"Very well then. Let me tell you a tale of a man named Tom Riddle…"

XXX

Hariel sighed quietly as she slid the window closed and stepped back into empty space. Air whistled past her ears for half a second, before she landed, what little breath she had left rushing from her lungs with the impact. A second later, however, the raven-haired girl was bouncing back to the balls of her feet, before setting off across the roof she had landed on. It was a tall one, large enough to loom just under the window to her bedroom in Avenger's Tower. She had almost been ecstatic when she realised it was there.

Now, Harry wasn't running away or anything, much as it may have appeared so. In fact, the young girl was quite happy with Avenger's Tower so far, though few of its occupants beyond her father, uncle, and Tony had actually interacted with her yet. It was just so liberating, to finally be free of the Dursley's, and quite possibly permanently, not to mention the warm and welcoming atmosphere that the tower almost seemed to have seeped into it very foundation. None of that, however, had any bearing on her midnight jaunt.

It had started when Thor and Loki came home from their supposed trip to the Ministry of Magic, acting extraordinarily irritated. All Hariel had gotten was a distracted greeting before the two locked themselves in her father's rooms and failed to come out all day. This had made her nervous, and the strange buzzing energy refused to leave her, even as she lay awake in bed. Thus, Hariel decided to take a midnight stroll. As she struggled to find a way to leave without alarming anyone, she noticed a small electric latch on the window. One thought led to another, and a short burst of raw magic later, she was free.

It didn't take long before Hariel had made her way down to street level, and found herself wandering amid the crowds. It was strange, she thought. How were there so many people out at this hour that it almost felt like the day she had arrived with Loki? Now she understood why New York was called the city that never sleeps.

Hariel scratched at a small itch on her back as she walked, musing over the last few days. It almost seemed like a dream come true, learning Loki was her father. She had a family that actually loved her, what might be a friend in Tony, and the possibility of even more with the rest of the team. Admittedly, realizing her father had gone on a murderous rampage which destroyed a good chunk of one of the largest cities in the world wasn't exactly ideal, but the knowledge that he had been brainwashed made it easier to handle. Not to mention, none of the Avenger's were liable to treat her as anything special even if they did know of her fame. It would be a tad hypocritical if they did, after all.

Suddenly, Harry was broken out of her thoguhts as she spotted a face in the crowd that seeemed oddly familiar. A minute later, she saw it again, accompanied with two more. Three blondes, all of which appeared to be following her. The ravenette stumbled slightly as they drew abit closer in the crowd, giving her a better look. The three men were older than her, by a lot, but even she had to admit they were utterly gorgeous, and were staring at Harry like she was a piece of meat.

 _Run._ The thought rang through her mind like a bell, more instinct than word. There was something about the three men's gazes that stuck her as odd. It wasn't the usual of hunger, the kind she had been warned against by female teachers and classmates, but more of a literal kind, like she actually was a hunk of meat, and they were starving lions stalking their prey. Carefully, she increased her speed, weaving and ducking through the crowds with an expertise gained from four years of traversing the halls of Hogwarts. Even as she did so, however, the men followed, using their stunning looks and great height to instead scythe a path through. Within minutes, Hariel was breathing hard, moving at nearly an all-out run as she abandoned subtlety. Something told her these men wouldn't care about grabbing her in the street; It wouldn't be difficult to conceal a scene in the bustling crowd.

Harry didn't think as she ducked into the shadowed alleyway, too focused on her pursuers to notice the brick wall at its end. Only after stumbling several steps in and collapsing to her knees did she realize she had trapped herself. Even worse, the three blondes appeared at the mouth of the alley seconds later, each wearing a vicious grin as they stalked towards the young girl. She backed away slowly, pushing herself back to her feet as she did so, until her back hit the wall.

"Fuck." She breathed as they fanned out, surrounding her, fearing slowly spreading icily through her body. For a short moment, she glanced around, looking for some way out, until suddenly a rough hand grabbed her chin, turning her face to stare into the crystal blue eyes of the center man.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one." The voice was like velvet as it purred into her ear, and Harry fought to keep herself from relaxing into it. "So strong and delicious." The man leaned in as his cronies laughed, before sniffing deeply. "I'm going to enjoy devouring you."

Somehow, those words broke Hariel out of whatever spell she was in as an image flashed into her mind, of tangled hair and deep brown eyes. The thought was accompanied with pain, a rejection that burned at the back of her throat and brought tears to her eyes, but it gave her strength as well. _What the hell am I thinking. These bastards aren't even my type!_

"Sorry," She managed to say, a small smirk twisting her lips. "I don't swing that way." One knee shot up like a rocket, slamming into the man's groin. He reeled back, shock and pain crossing his features, and in an instant Hariel slid her wand from its holster. She pointed it at him, a curse on her tongue… only for him to explode into dust a half-second before she could cast it.

For an instant, Hariel could only blink at the blank space where the blonde man had just stood, before her mind finally caught up with her and she looked up to find another, much larger man directly behind it. As she stared at him, however, her mind blanked once again.

 _Holy Merlin, Morgana, and… and… never mind, I'm not even going to try._ If she had thought the blonde men were gorgeous, then she must have been blind, because this newcomer blew them all away. Even with his eyes covered by opaque black sunglasses and his hair obviously dyed to a dark purple, the sheer masculinity on display was more than enough to make Harry rethink her previous quip. Standing almost seven feet tall, he was built like an apex predator and possessed perfectly sculpted features that matched his deadly grin.

"Sorry boys. This one's not on the menu tonight." Even as the man blurred into action, driving a sword still covered in the ashes of its previous victim into another of the blonde Hariel remained still, too shocked by his sudden appearance to react. More than that, however, she was struck by the lethal grace with which he moved, catching the last blonde's arm as he threw a punch, before impaling him as well. Every action, every bunching of the muscles, spoke of year- no, decades of experience that he shouldn't have with his face. In fact, when she leaned in slightly to get a closer look as the man turned back to her, that same easy grin on his lips, his features seemed almost to ripple…

"Holy fuck." The words, while not necessarily dignified, were well-justified, Hariel thought. After all, it wasn't every day you saw a man with blue skin, horns, and black lips. Granted, it wasn't the worst she had seen, but still. He could give a girl some warning first.

"I know I'm good-looking, but I'm sure it's not that amazing." The man, seemingly unaware of the fact that he now had a really bad case of hypothermia, teased, leaning on his sword. Harry, surprise snapped by the sound of his voice, raised a questioning eyebrow, before leaning back against the brick wall. Alright, if he wanted to play it that way…

"Actually, blue skin doesn't really suit you. Maybe try green next time?" As she had been half-expecting, the man froze, and she had the sensation of a piercing gaze settling on her from behind his sunglasses.

"What did you say?" He asked, his previously soft voice suddenly very dangerous. Harry shivered as the air crackled with ozone and the feeling of power oozed off the man. It was a vicious and deadly aura, one which gave Hariel the feeling of being a fluffy bunny rabbit trying to stare down a tiger. She pushed the feeling away, however. She had seen far worse.

"You heard me. Or is it too high up there?" For a short second Hariel wondered if she had stepped too far as the feeling of power sharpened like a razor's edge at her throat. She stood her ground, however, and suddenly the feeling faded.

"So you can see me." The man said quietly, and Harry nodded.

"Kinda hard to miss the horns and black lips. Other than that though, I would suggest getting a space heater or something." The guy's eyebrows shot up behind his glasses, his entire face twisting into surprise.

"And here I thought Nick was the weirdest person I'd ever meet." He muttered finally with a short chuckle, and Harry felt a smirk inching onto her face as she shrugged.

"No idea who that is, but trust me, I've seen worse. Now, if you didn't have a nose, then I'd already be running for the hills." A long moment of silence descended, with the man staring at Harry until she almost felt uncomfortable, before he sighed and shook his head. She thought she heard him mutter something like "Dear gods there's two of them." Before he offered her an exceedingly large hand.

"My name's Acheron Parthenopaeus, but you can call me Ash. Somehow, I think we're going to be good friends." Hariel glanced down at the proffered limb, before looking back up to him incredulously.

"So what, Some strange guy shows up and turns a few assholes-who, by the way, I could have taken- into dust, and then expects me to be his friend?" To his credit Ash winced slightly, but didn't lower the hand.

"No, some strange guy sees a girl walking around a city at night looking lonely and offers to keep her company. Not that kind," he clarified as she shot a dirty glance at the ash piles behind him. "Just a chance to hang out and deter anymore like them. Besides," He offered that easy grin again, just a hint of pointy white teeth flashing. "It's not often I get to meet someone who can see my true form and not scream like a little girl. Never, actually." Hariel hesitated. Was it really such a good idea to be around someone who had such little qualms about killing? Well actually that was a ridiculous question, but still. Unbidden, her eyes drifted back to the blonde's' remains, and her brow furrowed suddenly as something Ash had said stood out.

"You said more people like them. Did you mean rapists, or…"

"Daimons." Ash cut her off, shaking his head. "Trust me, what they were about to do to you is probably worse than anything you could imagine."

"What, like eat my soul?" She asked with a snort, only to pause as he coughed.

"I stand corrected." Harry's brows shot upwards as the meaning of those words hit her, and she looked back to the ashes.

"Well shit. Now I have to take your offer." Like a whip she grabbed his hand and started shaking it, even as she marveled at how warm it was; Almost like a big teddy bear, actually. After a few seconds she released it, finally offering Ash a warm smile. "I don't think I ever gave you my name. I'm Hariel Potter, but I guess since we're going to be friend's and all, you can just call me Harry." Giving her a nod, the large man smiled.

"Well then Harry," He said, looping one arm in hers, "Let's go have some fun."

XXX

 **Alright, that is done! So, it seems about a month a chapter is going to be the norm for this thing, but I will be trying to speed it up if I can. Regardless, however, the first thing I want to do is apologize if the Loki/Thor/Dumbledore scene feels a bit lackluster. I was having a lot of difficulty just getting it to work, so be glad for what you have. Also, I should apologize for the somewhat shorter chapter, but it felt like a good place to stop and I figure if I tried to add another scene it would probably go too long.**

 **Now, for reviews! Alright, so a good deal of you guessed that yes, Hermione is a half-blood. I am surprised, however, that so few guessed who her godly parent is. Obviously, it's not Athena, but there is another fairly good choice considering what she is. Come on, it's not that hard;) Anyways, And for those of you wanting pairings, here I present to you candidate number one! Also, for those of you wondering, Hariel is bi, but tending towards lesbian. Don't ask why, I just find it more interesting to write lesbian stories, and I wanted to keep her options open. Ash is, however, one of the characters I have considered, and while not exactly ahead in the running, still an intriguing chioce, especially to those of you who recognize him. Now, one final thing, a guest reviewer asked about Loki's lack of reaction to Dudley's… comment, in the first chapter. The explanation for that is that he was too far away while on the tree to hear exactly what was said. For all he knows, Dudley just insulted her or something, and Harry's obviously not going to tell.**

 **Alright, that should be everything for now. Don't forget to Review, I love hearing from you! See ya!**


	4. Butterfly Wings

Hariel Potter, Acheron mused, was a very strange girl. Young, about Nick's age, actually, she was quite clearly familiar with the supernatural world. If he didn't know any better, the Atlantean would think she saw men reduced to ash and gods walking among men every day. As it was, she seemed particularly unruffled by both, and such nonchalance alone had Ash's instincts on edge.

"So you're not from around here I take it?" The girl-and she really was a girl, he thought- glanced up from her cup with an expression of surprise. They were currently sitting in one of New York's many late-night coffee shops, sequestered in a back booth where they would be out of sight, and Harry had seemed distinctly interested in her drink.

"England." She stated as way of answer, before smirking as she seemed to notice his frustration at her vague answer. Normally, he could just pluck the information from the aether, one of the few benefits of his powers he was grateful for, but just as with Nick, his sight of this oddly fey girl was distinctly lacking. Whenever that happened, it meant trouble, and Ash didn't like trouble.

"What are you doing in the states?" He tried again, and this time Hariel drew back a bit, her playful smirk turning into a frown.

"It's complicated." She answered, looking back down to her coffee.

"As complicated as being an ancient god who hunts soul-sucking monsters for a living?" He asked sardonically, arning a slight giggle.

"Perhaps." Harry said vaguely, and Ash gave her a surprised look. Most people would have responded to that question with denial. After a few more moments of silence, Hariel sighed, before pushing her cup away and meeting his eyes seriously.

I recently learned my father's alive," She began, her voice quiet. "I used to think he was dead, and in a way, he was. But then it turns out I was thinking of the wrong man entirely, and a couple of days ago, I was in danger." She paused then, a strange light sparking in her eyes, and the raven-haired girl gave Ash a conspiratorial smile. "It would seem I'm quite the attraction for soul-sucking demons." Ash, to his credit, gave no visible signs to his sudden alertness beyond a slight tensing of his muscles, but it was enough for Hariel's lips to twitch.

"You have been targeted by daimons before?" It wasn't likely, but if such was the case then Ash would need to investigate. If the daimon's were consistently going after this girl, then there was a reason. Before his mind could get too far ahead, however, Harry shook her head, mouth quirking upwards into an amused smile.

"Not quite. They're called Dementor's and as far as I've seen, far worse than your daimons. _They_ , at least, bother to wear a human skin." Ash tilted his head at that. The word Dementor sounded familiar, vaguely… _Wizards,_ the universe whispered into his ear, and he smiled as it finally made sense.

"You're a witch." There wasn't any question in the words, but still Harry raised an eyebrow, before settling back into her seat with a contemplative expression.

"And you would know that how?" She asked, prompting a smirk of Ash's own.

"Jedi mind tricks." Harry's eyes narrowed, but then she let out a loud snort, shaking her head.

"Whatever, I suppose it's not technically against the Statute of Secrecy."

"Considering I've been around for much longer than even your kind? Pretty much, yeah." For a second, the two beings stared at each other, before both suddenly broke down laughing. It was a long moment until Ash finally calmed down enough to ask another question, though his face was still stretched in a wide grin.

"So, you were attacked by Dementors, and then your father saved you." The last bit had been an assumption, but by Hariel's slow nod, a correct one.

"It wasn't really safe where I was staying though, so he brought me here, to New York." Ash nodded, absorbing the information. It was still frustratingly vague, but he was the last person to complain about such. Still, it didn't stop his curiosity…

"And what does this have to do with you wandering around the streets late at night?"Harry shrugged, annoyance flickering back into view on her features.

"I was feeling itchy and felt like a walk. The Daimons were a surprise, but considering my luck, probably shouldn't have been." Her tone was bitter as she said the words, and Ash felt a wave of curiosity strike him.

"Why not?" Ash asked, brow furrowing. The witch snorted once again, taking a sip of her coffee before answering.

"Potter luck, as my best friend once put it. What can happen, will, and what can't, still finds a way."Ash laughed at that, amusement filling him. That pretty much summed up his own life.

"Sounds like it keeps life interesting," He commented, earning himself a scathing glare.

"You have _no_ idea. And that's exactly the problem." Alright, Ash had been trying to hold back since he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the girl, but that one was just too good to pass up.

"Afraid of a little fun are we?" He drawled. Harry's eyes narrowed at the insult, and an instant later, the air temperature suddenly dropped. The atlantean froze, every sense on high alert as he glanced around for the threat. His jaw fell however, as his eyes settled on Hariel, who hadn't flinched from her position of glaring at Ash, coffee still gripped tightly in her hand.

"What was that?" She asked, her voice low and dangerous. Ash winced as the temperature dropped once again; There was a sharp crackle as ice appeared on her cup, creeping slowly to cover its surface. All around them, too, signs of the change were appearing, blue-white frost creeping along the faded white planes of her seat and down to the ground. It even spread across the wall, from her side of the booth to Ash's.

"Harry, what…" The atlantean stopped suddenly, eyes going wide as he felt the weight of power settle in the air. It had been a long time since Acheron Parthenopaeus feared for anything except the fates of those he cared about. He had long ruled as an alpha predator, one of the deadliest beings to walk in his corner of existence, and a few others too. Now, however, as the air snapped and crackled with the frigid strength of Hariel's wrath, he started to question that sentiment. It was like a winter storm, barely leashed and set to freeze everything in its path until nothing remained but the cold expanse of an arctic wasteland, pure and pristine. Then she moved.

 _Hot._ It was the sudden thought passing through his mind that snapped Acheron from his admiration and back to the present. There was a warmth in his groin, different from the one he was familiar with, and it took a quick glance downwards to confirm that Harry had indeed thrown her coffee onto his lap. It was hot, enough to be uncomfortable but not quite so much to burn, and so he offered the girl a tight grimace. It was only his instincts honed from the long millennia of being a Dark-Hunter that allowed him to notice the disappearance of her wintry aura, and even the frost which had appeared, too distracted was he with annoyance at her mirthful grin.

" _Never_ insult my sense of fun." She warned, with just the barest hint of teeth showing in her smile. Ash, realizing just what had happened, couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, you got me good there." He relented, vanishing the liquid with a thought. Hariel's face fell a bit at how easily he had dismissed her prank, and he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. "I think we're going to have to leave though. I can't trust you with another cup of coffee." Harry pouted at this for a second, but when she saw the look on his face, relented.

"FIne. I had somewhere I wanted to go, anyways." She huffed at him, rising to leave. Ash tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table and followed, hiding his grin. Her annoyance, he could guess, was all an act, but that made it no less amusing.

 _I wonder what would happen if she met Artie…_ Acheron cut that thought off immediately, shaking his head. No, that would likely be a disaster, particularly considering what he had just witnessed. Hariel, whoever she was, had power; much more than she realized, he reckoned, and those few seconds in the coffee shop were just a taste of what she was capable of. More concerning, however, was her personality. Putting those two in a room would be suicide, not to mention possible geocide. Ash would rather take an army of Malachi over the potential havoc they might wreak, whether together or fighting. It could go either way, really.

"So, where to?" Ash asked as he and his companion exited the shop, pushing the thoughts of womanly annihilation aside. The blood drained from his face a second later, however, when Hariel threw him a crooked smile.

"Long island Sound."

XXX

Why are we here again?" Ash sighed for what must have been the hundredth time, glaring at the hill cresting in the moonlight and the great oak standing atop it.

"Because you promised to keep me company tonight." Was Hariel's caustic reply, her patience nearly at an end. He had done everything he could to slow down the trip, but she was more stubborn than most, and here they were..

"I can't go in there," Ash said, ignoring her venom and continuing to glare. "And you shouldn't either." This made Hariel pause, if only for a second, to raise her eyebrow at him.

"And why would you say that?" She asked, genuine curiosity slipping into her tone. He sounded quite serious, and a man this deadly did not just get that way without a reason.

"Do you even know what's beyond that hill?" Ash asked rhetorically, turning his sunglasses-shielded eyes to glare at her instead.

"It's my friend's summer camp." She answered, shrugging lightly. Honestly, it was like he was scared of the place. After a long moment of her meeting his eyes with her own, emerald green burning brightly as she practically dared him to contradict her, Acheron finally sighed, shaking his head in acceptance.

"Whatever. Fine, go ahead and try to get in. This should be amusing. But be warned, I'm not following you." Hariel's eyes narrowed at this, suspicion pooling in her stomach.

"You promised." Her voice was hard, and the young witch could only pray she didn't sound petulant as she stared at Ash. Again, he sighed, before running a hand through his long purple hair.

"Sorry kid, but this is a bit more important than that. I go in there, I die." Harry recoiled from the man as his words struck her. He would die?

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, voice quavering slightly. This man… well he was practically a stranger. She had barely known him for a night after all, but somehow, she didn't like the idea of him getting hurt. He had saved her life, and now they were almost friends. Hariel couldn't ask something of him like that.

"Exactly what I mean." Came his cold reply, and his eyes fixed on the hill once again. "I'm not allowed." Harry swallowed, turning back to the hill as well.

"Alright, you can stay here." She said finally, and before Acheron could get another word out, strode forward. There was a brief second of resistance to the air as she crested it, almost like the wards of Hogwarts, even, but then it was gone, And Harry shook off the thought. Probably just her imagination, really. Once she hit the other side, Hariel paused, reaching under her shirt, before, with a small flourish, she pulled out her invisibility cloak. The girl quickly threw it over her head, quietly thankful that the idea of hiding the cloak beneath her clothes had occurred years ago, and that she had happened to be wearing it when Loki whisked her away from Privet Drive. They still hadn't gone back to retrieve any of her things.

Invisible and quiet as a wraith, Hariel made her way through the camp, at once both glad and cursing the night darkness. The former, for she was sure it was only that which allowed her to move undetected, but also the latter for she would have liked to marvel at Hermione's home for this past summer. From the stories it was quite nice. Still, she supposed she would have to make do. And so she did, sneaking through the open areas towards the ring of cabins she could see even from a distance. Most were hard to make out, the night concealing them, but there were a few which lacked that advantage. One, silvery and fey, even seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Hariel ignored it, however. Hermione's letters had warned that the campers were eccentric, and after the Wizarding World, she wouldn't put anything past anyone.

It wasn't long before she found Hermione's cabin twenty she remembered. It was simple enough, carved from plain stone but with dark markings etched into them that Harry couldn't quite make out. Carefully, she slid the door open, thankful when it didn't creak. Hariel knew that what she was doing was quite probably illegal, and as Hermione had been so kind as to remind her in the letter she had received earlier that day, the campers weren't allowed visitors. Hariel, however, was a Gryffindor with long experience in breaking the rules, and since she was here in New York anyways, felt it only right to surprise her best friend.

The interior of the cabin was dark, but two small torches crossed over each other on the back wall granted enough light to see by, and it took only a quick glance to realize that only one bed was occupied. A small grin slid over Hariel's face as she watched the peaceful rise and fall of its occupants chest, and the way her nose scrunched in her sleep. Harry would recognize that face anywhere, and the bushy mane of hair surrounding it even more so. Silently, she glided over the stone floor, before leaning down beside her friend and pulling off her cloak.

"Boo." The word, whispered softly in Hermione's ear, had the same effect as blowing an airhorn might have, namely sending the witch into a panic as she jumped up from where she lay with a loud shriek. Hariel, reeling back from the sudden noise to crash into the stone floor, cursed loudly.

"Goddammit Hermione, you scream like a banshee!" For a long second, her words hung heavily in the air as Hermione, who had been looking around frantically, froze and turned to stare at Hariel. The ravenette, for her part, was busy rubbing her ass where it had struck the hard ground wincing.

"Harry?" Hermione's whisper was almost silent, a breath of wind that just barely reached Hariel, but it was enough, for her to hear. "Is that you?"

"The one and only." Hariel cracked a grin, but paused when Hermione didn't smile with her. "Er, sorry about sneaking in here and all that. But, I was in the area, and thought I'd surprise you…"The ravenette trailed off when she realized her friend wasn't answering.

"But… you're in Britain." The bushy haired witch said finally, staring at Harry like she had seen a ghost. "And you're missing." Again, Hariel cracked a smile, amusement flooding her at her friend's expense. It wasn't often she saw Hermione so caught up like this.

"Yep. This is all your imaginat-"The ravenette was cut off as a pillow struck her full in the face, silencing any jokes she might have thought to make.

"Shut up, Harry. I know when you're joking." For a second, Hermione continued to stare at her friend, worrying at her lip. "Just... how are you here?"

"Caught a cab." Came Harry's nonchalant response, followed by a shrug. "Then I snuck in with the cloak." She held up said object as proof. Hermione, however, shook her head.

"No, I mean, how did you get past the wards? Only…" The brunette stopped suddenly, her eyes widening to an extraordinary size. "Oh Hecate."

"What? What is it Hermione?" Hariel jumped up from where she sat, grabbing Hermione's shoulders. She refrained from shaking her friend, however, when she noticed the wide smile spreading over the bushy-haired witch's face.

"Come on." Without warning, Hermione suddenly jumped out of bed, uncaring as the cold wind cut through her thin nightgown. She grabbed Harry, who squeaked in surprise, and started pulling the younger girl along, out the cabin and into the dark , too shocked by this sudden change in demeanor, could only watch and let herself be dragged through the camp, unsure of where they were going or why. Cabins and other structures passed them by at almost a run as Hermione made for the one recognizable building, a large multi-story house sitting like a crouching lion.

It wasn't until they had climbed all the way onto the porch and Hermione was knocking briskly on the door that Harry managed to gather her wits and tear her arm from her friend's grasp. "Hermione, what is going on? Didn't you say you're not allowed visitors? We're both going to get in trouble!" Hermione turned at Hariel's hissed protestations, but her eyes were not worried. Instead, they practically glowed with excitement a pure kind of happiness that the ravenette had rarely seen from her.

Any musings Harry had over Hermione's interactions were interrupted when the door finally opened, and a middle-aged man in a wheelchair peered out at them sleepily. "Miss Granger?" He asked, surprise coloring his tone. "What could you be doing here at this time of night?"

"Director Chiron." Hermione addressed the man with respect, and Hariel immediately decided he had to be some kind of teacher. They were the only people she had ever talked to that way, even Snape. "I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Hariel Potter." For a second, Harry felt a surge of panic as the man turned to look at her, all signs of drowsiness draining away in an instant.

Er… hello." She said, half-waving. His stare wasn't entirely like the ones she had long suffered at school but something sharper, and more consuming.

"Ms. Granger." Chiron spoke in an iron tone, not taking his eyes off Hariel. "You know the rules about outsiders…"

"She walked in herself." Hermione cut the crippled man off, earning a surprised glance from Harry. Perhaps her previous assessment of the man was wrong. Hermione didn't cut off teachers. "Right past the wards." The brunette paused for a second, turning back to Hariel. "You did, right?" The raven-haired witch, unsure of how to answer, shrugged noncommittally.

"I guess." She said, before a thought sparking in her mind twisted her mouth into a frown. "Is that what that resistance was? Must not be very good wards, I only felt them for half a second. Didn't even realize what it was." Somewhere in the back of Hariel's mind, she felt a prickling feeling. There was something off about this situation. Why would Hermione even be at a camp with wards, anyways? She hadn't heard of any magic camps…

"Ms. Potter." Harry met Chiron's eyes, Emerald to brown, and what she saw there sent a shiver down her spine. "It would seem we have much to talk about."

XXX

Chiron watched the strange girl carefully out of the corner of his eye as she and Ms. Granger entered the Big House. She certainly seemed like a plausible demigod, he mused. Beautiful in the way that marked those descended of divine blood and well-honed instincts- he did not miss the way her eyes shifted about the rooms, taking stock of their layout and contents- and it would not be the first time a student came to him under such circumstances. Indeed, demigods tended to stick out from the crowd like a sore thumb, and quite often unconsciously drifted together when in close proximity, so Hermione's claim that this Hariel was her friend would make sense. There was, however, a strange edge to the girl that he could not shake, a certain wildness in her features and movement that set him ill at ease. There were, of course, many wild heroes over the centuries, wildness itself was almost to be expected of those born for war, but… The ancient centaur shook his head. There was no point questioning it now. In just a few minutes, he would be able to get to the bottom of it.

They stopped in one of the Big House's several sitting room, a comfortable thing with a fireplace along one wall and several cushy chairs scattered about. Chiron, for his part, simply rolled himself the coffee table located in their center and the small plate of cookies sitting there. He had, in fact, been getting a midnight snack when Ms. Granger's knocking echoed through the house.

Biscuit, Ms. Potter?" He offered, using the British colloquialism with ease. It had not been so long ago by his memory that the camp had resided in England, and he found it somewhat refreshing to hear their polite speech once again. Hariel, for her part, gave the treats a wary look, before perching herself upon one of the chairs.

"No thank you sir." She answered, sharing a meaningful glance with her friend. "If you don't mind, I'm rather lost here. What exactly is going on here?" Hiding his disappointment, Chiron replaced the plate and turned fully to face both girls, Hermione quite noticeably taking the seat closest to Hariel's.

"I am sure you are, Ms. Potter," He said, smiling kindly at the young woman, "But before we begin, perhaps you could explain what, exactly, has you showing up on our doorstep in the middle of the night." Chiron, with his years of experience, had no trouble picking his words carefully as he spoke. It did not appear that the girl before him had seen danger recently, the only rufflement in her appearance that of her chaotic hair, which seemed more chronic than anything. Perhaps she was one of those rare children who had avoided danger over her short life, and if that was the case, it would be best not to startle her too much.

"Er…" Hariel hesitated, glancing back and forth between Chiron and Hermione, who the old instructor was proud to note nodding vigorously. Whatever her actions, she likely considered them something Chiron would be angry at. "Well, I was sort of… sneaking in to see 'Mione?" As the words came tumbling out, ending with a tilt that seemed more to denote a question than a statement, Chiron found himself struggling to withhold a smile. He did not doubt, of course, that the young woman had meant her words in a purely platonic way, as he could see nothing more than a strong friendship in the way both her and Ms. Granger held themselves, but it was obvious from the way Hariel flushed and stole glances at her friend that an alternative had at one time been considered. That did not, however, have any bearing upon the current conversation.

"Ah, I see now." He smiled again, the gentle, grandfatherly like one which had taken nigh on three centuries to perfect. "Well, as much as I do enjoy seeing some measure of youth remaining in my charges, it is perhaps not the best idea to be wandering about at night in strange places." Thankfully, the girl nodded, though there was a certain reluctance to it that reminded him of one of his other students, ironically also possessed of black hair and green eyes, though of far different shade and texture. They both carried that same weight on their shoulders, that of one destined for great things, but chained to those expectations, and thus bearing a certain mischievous will to challenge them.

"That still doesn't answer anything." Chiron turned to Hermione in surprise at her outburst. The girl had thus far been sitting quietly, and in the last few weeks he had known her, she was not one prone to impatience. Now, however, the young bookworm was practically bouncing in her seat, as if she were the one about to discover the truth.

"I shall put it plainly then." He stated, almost chuckling at the sight of his normally patient student. "You, Hariel Potter, are a demigod." For a long second, there was silence as the emerald-eyed child blinked at him, and then blinked again.

"Er, yeah." She said finally, glancing back and forth blankly between her friend and the centaur. "But how did you guys know?"Chiron, who had been expecting a far different reaction, was taken aback, but at the same time pleased.. So she did know the truth of her parentage. That would make things so much simpler.

"Only those of divine blood can cross the wards." Chiron explained gravely, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"But how did you learn, Hariel?" She asked suddenly, a hint of hurt in her voice. "You never said anything…"

"I only learned a couple days ago." Hariel quickly cut her friend off, and Chiron smiled as he watched her take the brunette's hand. "When the dementor's attacked. My father showed up to save me and then we came to New York." That seemed to calm the older girl, as she sat back in her chair and smiled at Ms. Potter. Chiron, however, frowned at her explanation. It was highly uncommon for divine parents to interfere so blatantly.

"And who, might I ask, is your godly parent? Did he say?" He asked, eyeing the air above her head. There was no sign of a claiming, but if the child was already aware perhaps they hadn't felt the need. At least, Chiron certainly hoped that was the case. It would be troublesome for them to break their oath to Mr. Jackson so soon. His attention drawn back down however, when Hariel started answering.

"Yeah, of course," She said, rolling her eyes as if the words should be obvious. "He's Loki Odinson." And thus, for perhaps the first time in millennia, a young hero was witness to the most gratifying sight; Chiron's jaw dropped.

XXX

"Loki Odinson? But-but-... He's Norse!" Hermione just couldn't help herself as she shouted out the confused and mangled words. Instead, she found herself staring at her friend, her best friend, as if she had just grown two heads. It wasn't of course, the first thing that came to mind; That would be that he was an avenger, followed shortly by the fact that he was actually asgardian, the Norse only worshipped him, but somehow it was the culture, rather than race or occupation that spilled from her tongue. It may have had something to do with the fact that the last few months, she had been drawn into the glory and glamour of Greek mythology, and thus, when faced with the prospect of Hariel being a demigod too, had imagined she would belong to them as well. After all, she was a daughter of Hecate; The most likely event was that Hermione shared that same distinction, and they would be _sisters._ Somehow, Hermione couldn't imagine anything better.

Now though… now Hermione had no idea what to think. She knew of Loki, of course; how could she not, with the Avengers appearing in every one of five international news articles this past year and the announcement of his manipulations at the hands of some intergalactic criminal mastermind. But they, perhaps even more than the gods and heroes of Olympus, had seemed a dream, and any thought of them was more like grasping at stardust than anything else. What little she knew of Loki and his brother Thor was that they were Asgardians, a race similar to the Olympians but having sealed themselves away from earth and all its environs centuries ago… at least until their reemergence a couple of years ago. And now, not only had Hermione's dreams of sisterhood with Hariel disappeared like smoke, but she learned that the girl in question was in fact belonging to said race. It was perhaps understandable that she be a little confused.

"Well, actually, he's asgardian. The Norse were just the people they tended to run into the most." For some reason, it was that, Hariel's rather matter-of-fact explanation, that shook her out of her confused daze. Perhaps it was what Harry said, or even the sheer fact that she _had_ said it, but whatever the case, Hermione was snapped back to the present.

"Right, sorry. I just… how?" Harry opened her mouth to answer, but paused, tilting her head in that way she did when she found something curious and couldn't quite decide whether to be amused or unnerved. Hermione, curious, followed her gaze, only to burst out laughing herself when she saw what had captured her friends attention.

"Um, Mr. Chiron? Are you alright?" Hariel's innocent question, aimed at the near catatonic teacher of heroes, only sent Hermione into more hysterics. Alright, perhaps her head wasn't completely screwed back on, but come on. She had just learned that her friend-who was already quite famous and powerful merely for her destruction of Lord Voldemort at the age of one- was not only a demigod, but a completely different _kind_ and the daughter of one of the Avenger's, literally decried as Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Add onto that the barely registered fact that she had been illegally attacked by Dementors-and really, one would think something like that might warrant a _tad_ more concern- and she couldn't help it.

It took a long time for Hermione to pull herself out of hysterics, and by the time she stopped laughing completely, there were small shreds of light creeping into the window as outside, the sun started to rise. Evidently, Hariel's visit had come closer to dawn than midnight, and now they were paying for that. Chiron, thank the gods, had recovered as well, and was now glaring at Harry rather sternly. Well, perhaps that last part wasn't quite so thankful, but at least he was no longer muttering to himself about treaties and the apocalypse.

"You know, I sort of wish I could do that." Hermione blinked at Harry, who was staring at her with a wistful expression. For a second, the older Gryffindor wondered what on earth her friend was talking about, before the answer clicked into place. Yes, it would likely be quite difficult to suffer through all that and not be afforded the luxury to laugh at it. Not to mention, Chiron was actually starting to look kind of terrifying with how he glared at Hariel.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Harry." It was all the bookworm could offer her friend, beyond a small smile and squeeze to the hand she had somehow kept a hold of through her seemed to be enough, however, since the ravenette returned the smile, emerald eyes sparkling newly, and turned to Chiron.

"So…." She started, and Hermione almost burst out laughing again at how awkward she sounded. "It take it you did _not_ expect me to be half-asgardian."Chiron, seeming to realize that Hariel still had no idea what was going on, relented from his glare, sighing heavily.

"No, I did not. In fact, we were expecting you to be the child of an _Olympian_ god. This… will be difficult." For a short second, Hariel stared at the man, and Hermione couldn't blame her; she was staring too. Chiron, who in the short month the daughter of Hecate had known him always appeared to be strong and confident, now appeared as if the weight of the world were resting upon his shoulders. It was a pathetic sight, really.

"Alright, let me get this straight." Harry suddenly said, snapping Hermione's attention to her. She was not looking at Chiron with pity, rather, she was frowning thoughtfully, something which did not happen often, but the bushy-haired witch knew by dint of long experience to stay well out of the way of. Whatever came out of her mouth in the next few minutes would be either incredibly idiotic, or amazingly genius. Or, more like than not, some disastrous and yet effective mixture of the two that left everyone observing to wonder what the hell had just happened. Hariel was special like that. "You were expecting me to be the child of some Olympian-Which is Greek, right?" Harry threw a questioning glance to Hermione, who was already nodding. "Right. So, you thought I was a Greek demigod, but now I'm Asgardian, or Norse. So what's wrong?"

"The problem, Ms. Potter," Again, Chiron sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Is that technically your presence here is a violation of ancient treaties signed between the Asgardians and the Olympians at the time of your father's people's withdrawal from this world. Such could mean war, if certain parties were so inclined." Hermione gasped as the centaur's meaning washed over her. A war between Asgard and Olympus… that would be bad. Very bad. Before she could think of something to say, however, some sort of complaint, she was cut off as Hariel spoke again.

"Then re-negotiate them." The silence in the wake of Harry's declaration was deafening. _What._

"Re-negotiate them? Ms. Potter, I'm afraid it is not as simple as that…"

"And why not?" Harry cut Chiron off, serving up a glare of her own. "It has been nearly a millennia since Asgardians walked the earth, and now we have my father and uncle as part of the avengers, defending _your_ planet from outside influences… and in your own backyard, too. It's a different political situation, different day. Somehow I get the feeling that neither side is really going to want war, so it's simple. Change the terms, and you don't have to. Besides, this is probably a long time coming anyway." Both Hermione and Chiron stared at the ravenette, who was smiling cheekily.

"Could it work?" Hermione asked after several seconds of silence. "Could we just re-negotiate?"Both the children turned to Chiron, watching with bated breath as he seemed to mull the thought over.

"...Perhaps." At the word, both girls let out a cheer. Perhaps was better than nothing, after all, and if there was one thing Hariel specialized in, it was taking small chances and making them work. " _But,_ " The old centaur said, cutting off their celebration. "There will need to be several things that happen first. For one, your presence here tonight must remain secret. Things like these take time, and if someone discovers you were here before the treaties are fixed, war _will_ break out." The grave declaration quieted both girls instantly, and meeting Chiron's eyes, Harry nodded resolutely.

"Got it. I can get out of here without anyone seeing me, and unless someone noticed Hermione bringing me up here, we're good on that front."

"Excellent." For perhaps the first time since Hariel's declaration of her lineage, a slight smile slipped onto Chiron's face. "Now, I can start approaching those from Olympus who can begin the process. But you, Ms. Potter, will need to convince your side to agree." Harry's eyes widened, and she swallowed as she realized what he meant. Odin, her grandfather, would almost certainly be necessary. She could leave it to chance, and hope that he was sensible enough to accept on his own… but no. She was a Gryffindor, and though neither her father nor uncle were entirely certain what would happen when her grandfather learned of her existence, she would have to face that day eventually. She couldn't run away from this.

"I'll do it." She said, with a voice of steel. Chiron nodded.

"I have no doubt. But you shall not do so alone." Hariel, confused by this statement, raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask, Chiron turned to Hermione. "Ms. Granger. I am hereby issuing you a quest. Accompany Ms. Potter, and see to it that the Accords are successfully negotiated between our two factions." Hermione froze in her seat. A quest, her? But that was impossible. Still, when she saw Chiron's eyes, the hardened pools of bronze which had watched over millennias' worth of heroes, she swallowed back her protests. No, she was a child of Hecate, and hero of Olympus. She would do this. But there was something missing…

"What about my team?" She asked, nervously. Quests were always done in threes. Hariel, at a stretch, could count as one, but that left one other, and she didn't know many people at camp. Certainly not well enough to ask them to accompany her on a quest. Thankfully, Chiron seemed to realize that, and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, this is a rather important quest. Treating with foreign royalty is a task not many are fit for. At the very least, someone of similar standing would be necessary, especially to balance Ms. Potter's position… And, as she has so kindly pointed out, Asgard has several warriors of great repute, both on Midgard and Asgard. Sending a lesser known hero would be a grave insult. There is perhaps one I can think of who is present at camp, and as I recall is in quite a slump since his recent break-up…" Hermione, her own mind following similar trails as Chiron's, reached the same conclusion only a second later. Still the thought set her stomach roiling with uneasiness. No, not him. That was almost worse than taking someone random. She wasn't worthy of going on a quest with _him._

"But Chiron…" She started, desperate to ask for someone, _anyone_ else.

"No, Hermione." Chiron cut her off, his tone hard. "If this is to work, and it _must_ work, He is the only one capable." Under the stern eye and command of her teacher, Hermione quailed, nodding timidly. "Good. Now, I have much to do, and likely a short time to do it in. You know what must be done, Ms. Granger. Do not fail." And with that, The man, who until now had been resting rather comfortably within his enchanted wheelchair, pushed himself up, rising and rising until his hindquarters were completely free. With only a short glance backwards, the centaur trotted away, leaving Hermione and Hariel alone.

"So…." Harry said after a while. "...Who exactly were you two talking about? And why do we need another person?" Hermione, who had been lost in her own mind as she tried to avoid thinking about what she was about to do, looked up, snorting when she saw Hariel's expression.

"Quest's are always done in threes," She said by way of explanation, before sighing. "And Chiron just suggested I ask the one guy I am most afraid of approaching, let alone going on a quest with."

"Who?" Hariel asked, cocking her head. Hermione, for once, didn't find it endearing as she usually did. And instead groaned, before finally answering.

"Percy Jackson."

XXX

 **Sooo… that just happened. Welp, have a nice month, see ya!**

… **.**

 **Alright, fine. I'm not running away. Now, because I know these are going to come up; Yes, Percy is no longer with Annabeth(I have my reasons, both personal and plotwise) No, Hermione is not afraid of asking Percy because she likes him( He's literally the most famous hero alive right now, and Hermione has a bit of a 'I'm not worthy' complex, as far as I remember when it comes to heroes). No, I did not just leave Ash just sitting out there in the dark. I will get back to him probably in the next chapter(Or at least, have him contact Hariel) And no, We're not about to have a big quest arc and forget everything else. There will be some action the next few days-story wise- but most of it will be spread out over the next year or so. Don't ask me for specifics, because this sort of just started itself and I'm kinda flying blind right now. Seriously, there was no quest arc until about an hour ago when my fingers decided that Harry caused a war. I am not complaining, however. Oh, and no, Geocide is not a typo. I literally meant blowing up the earth there.**

 **Now, before I let you go, I just want to say I am sorry if Harry's character seems a bit rickety. I'm still trying to establish it, but right now she's pretty much getting punch after punch and just trying to roll with it, not to mention most scenes are from other people's perspectives. So if she shoots from one end of the spectrum to the other, that's why. I also want to apologize for any other OOCness that may have occured. For the most part, it's been a while since I read these books, so their characters may be a bit off. Please forgive me and blame it on the AU. ;)**

 **Now then, I will be letting you all go now. I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to Review! Seriously, I practically live off that stuff. Feed me so I can keep writing.;P**


	5. Storm Clouds

Pain, Draco Malfoy decided, was a curious thing. He had once thought he knew pain, before the Dark Lord's resurrection. Draco had grown up with the sensation, as his father always punished him harshly any time he did something which might be considered a failure. One wrong word, one false step, and Draco would once again be greeted by a switch, belt, or fist-Lucius believed his wand was too noble to be sullied with such petty tasks as discipline-and he learned a new side to the word, a new meaning. Even after he started attending Hogwarts, when news of a grade that wasn't quite perfect, or one of his failed antics-which were many-reached home, he knew to expect a re-acquaintance with his old companion at the next holiday. So, when Lord Voldemort rose once again and took up residence at Malfoy Manor, Draco assumed there was nothing the man could teach him of the word. He was wrong.

The first time Draco suffered under the Dark Lord's cruciatus, a test and greeting all at once, he was left weeping when the fire that writhed under his skin and tore at his mind faded, something which hadn't happened since he was six years old. At the second, a punishment for waking Voldemort from his afternoon nap as the teenager worked on summer homework, Draco didn't cry. He didn't have the strength. The third, however… the third time Draco was struck by the curse-for seemingly no other reason than the Dark Lord was bored-he broke.

 _Why?_ Draco wondered, even as his body burned. _Why must I suffer like this? I am a Malfoy._ But somehow, the name, which he had once revered as a bastion of worth and measure under the tutelage of his father, didn't seem all that important now. It lay, instead, a broken and tarnished thing, and the ideals it had stood for beside it. _After all, what could a Muggleborn do that is worse than this?_

The question rang hollow in the pain-wracked confines of his mind, utterly answerless. There _was_ nothing they could do. The worst Draco had ever seen from a muggleborn was when Hermione Granger punched him in the nose, and quite justifiably as well. Looking back, he actually thought the bushy-haired witch had shown quite a bit of restraint. As for muggles themselves… well, Draco hadn't ever met one in person. Who was he to judge their worth?

These thoughts and more ran through his fevered mind as he writhed on the cold marble floors of Malfoy Manor, and when finally the pain stopped, it was all Draco could do to hold onto them. He lay there, gasping for breath, and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes on the house sigil carved into it. A dragon, fangs bared as it coiled itself around an ancient iron sword, and the Malfoy words beneath it. _Semper Vincent Puritas: Purity will always Prevail._

Draco scoffed silently, the motion sending him into a hacking fit as the last remnants of pain slithered over his skin. By the time he had finished, The Dark Lord's attention was elsewhere, and Draco retreated to his room hastily. Once there, he collapsed onto his bed, again staring at the ceiling. Here too was a dragon, but one born of stars, and without any words beneath it.

 _Why?_ His mind asked again, now that Draco was free of the cruciatus. _Why do we-no, I- scrape and bow at the feet of this man, this_ monster _, for an ideal I don't even believe in anymore?Why allow myself to be tortured for his amusement?_

 _Because anyone who stands against him perishes._ A quiet, poisonous part of his mind whispered. Draco frowned at the thought. It was true, wasn't it? The Dark Lord was powerful, inhumanly so. Nothing survived when he decided to kill it…

Almost as if to challenge the fear that was coiling around his heart, a flash of something crossed his mind. Green eyes burned with passion and determination in Draco's thoughts, matched by wildly cascading black hair that danced like shadows. The image flooded him with shock, and he stiffened in his bed.

"Potter." He breathed, feeling the slight tug of a grin at his lips. Yes, Potter had survived Voldemort's wrath, both as a child and recently, at the Dark Lord's resurrection. At least once, and more as well, if the rumors were to be believed, during their early years at Hogwarts. _But what good does that do me? She's not here, and going scampering to her for protection would just be pathetic._ Again Draco frowned. No, that wouldn't work… but maybe something else would. Potter was bound to place herself in Voldemort's path, whether willingly or not. Perhaps… perhaps he could help her with that. Fight by her side, and make something of himself and his name. Something that mattered. It would be dangerous, and likely to get him killed, but somehow, that didn't bother Draco. _I might as well be dead anyways, chained to that maniac as I am._

Finally, Draco closed his eyes, thoughts drifting to the two dragons on the ceiling of Malfoy Manor, similar yet separate. One, bound to a rusted duty and poisonous words, and the other, a fate written in the stars but still undecided. He smiled.

XXX

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Go away!" Percy mumbled as he fought to ignore the insistent sounds intruding into his sleep. For a few seconds, there was silence.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Oh for the love of-" with a loud groan, the seventeen-year-old boy pushed himself up from his comfy bed to glare at the door to his cabin. What in the name of Olympus could someone be bothering him for at this time of night? Actually, he didn't even know what time it was, except late. That was testament itself to how messed up it was. Still, as yet another round of the quiet, but insistent knocking sounded, Percy had no choice but to stumble out of bed and over to the door, before throwing it wide open.

"What is it- huh?" For a second, Percy was stupefied. There was nothing there. Cabin Two's doorway was utterly empty, except for himself, of course. As the thought coalesced in his brain, Percy felt something starting to build in him, an anger that had become depressingly familiar over the last month. He was not in the mood for some perverted version of ding-dong-ditchers-

"Oh come on, Move out of the bloody way!" Percy froze as a voice, quiet and hissing, emanated from what seemed to be empty air. He blinked at the spot, but before he could do much else, something brushed against him, shoving the demigod aside. As he stumbled and caught himself on a wall, he watched, amazed, as the door-seemingly by itself-swung shut. Percy gaped. What in Hades? Soon enough his unspoken question was answered as two girls appeared in the middle of the cabin, like someone had lifted a veil from around them.

"Hello there. You must be Jackson." Percy, to shocked to answer, simply stared at the intruders. One he knew, a new camper in the Hecate cabin if he remembered correctly. The other, however, was utterly foreign to him. With the sharp features of a warrior, raven black hair that was even messier than his and cascaded down her back like a waterfall of darkness, she was utterly beautiful. Her eyes, the green of wildfire, danced as they met his, sparkling with some unknown mirth. There was a feral edge to them as well, something that set Percy on edge, and with a sharp frown, he turned to the other girl, who was trying to hide behind her companion and failing miserably.

"I'm sorry, I just woke up. So I hope you don't mind if I ask what in Hades you're doing in my cabin at…" he paused, glancing at his watch. "six-thirty in the morning?" The two girls glanced at each other, before the brown-haired one cleared her throat.

"Er, well, that's a bit complicated." Percy, his aggravation only mounting higher, frowned deeper.

"Uncomplicate it then." Again, she tried to speak, but the other girl stopped her, placing a hand on the demigoddess' arm. She turned to him, mirth gone from her eyes. Instead, there was a sharp fire in them, serious as she regarded Percy, and again he felt a shiver go down his spine

"To put a long story short, I'm the half-asgardian daughter of Loki, god of mischief, and when I snuck in to see Hermione tonight," With this the girl gestured to the brown haired girl, who waved shyly, "I apparently broke some ancient treaty between our peoples. Now we have to go on this quest thingy to convince the Asgardians to renegotiate before someone learns I was here and starts a war that could destroy a lot of shit. Sound good?" The dark-haired girl ended her short speech with a grin, sharp and fake. Percy took a moment to register the words. The girls watched him, Hermione appearing to hold her breath.

"So…. you're Loki's daughter? As in, the guy who trashed Manhattan Loki?" He asked, finally, making the green-eyed girl wince.

"To be fair, he _was_ brain-washed at the time, but yes."

"And that makes you Asgardian." She nodded, meeting his eyes steadily.

"Is that a problem?" Percy looked at her for a moment, sea-foam staring into wildfire, and for some reason, felt like smiling. There was a resolve in this girl's eyes, the kind he'd only ever seen in the mirror. He could see the pain there, that of someone who had been outcast and ridiculed, even as they fought against the darkness and evil others were too afraid to stand up to. Sure, she was Asgardian, the daughter of Loki, and even as something deep inside him told Percy that this girl was dangerous, something even deeper told him she was trustworthy as well. That this was someone he could put at his back without fear. It was almost like meeting an old friend for the first time, he mused as his lips split into a small grin.

"Not at all. Actually, I've only got one question." For a second, surprise passed over her face, but she buried it under a grin to match Percy's.

"Shoot." She said, a playful smile in her voice. "Maybe I'll even answer." Percy blinked at the sudden demeanor change. Before he could make a fool of himself, however, the demigod caught the thankful light in her eyes. He chuckled, nodding slightly.

What's your name?" For a short second, the girl raised an eyebrow at him, as if just realizing she hadn't yet introduced herself. It disappeared, however, and she offered a feral grin.

"That one's easy." She said, extending a hand and looking Percy dead in the eye. "I'm Hariel Potter, but my friends call me Harry. Lovely to meet you." He took the hand easily, eyes widening when he felt the strength of her grip.

"Perseus Jackson." The boy replied. "But _my_ friends just call me Percy." Again, the two children of princes locked gazes, understanding passing between them. They stood like that for a long second, until the sudden sound of a clearing throat shook them both, snapping two sharp gazes of green to the third, nearly-forgotten occupant of the cabin.

"Yes well, now we've that sorted out, we really should be going. I have one more stop before we can start our quest." Hermione, a terrifying glare on her face, stated, and both Harry and Percy winced at her frigid tone.

"Right." Hariel said, taking a subtle step away from Percy. "What's that, exactly?"

"The Oracle's cave," Percy intersected, giving Hermione a stern look. "You haven't gone yet?"

"It seemed more prudent to get you first." She answered, anger dissipating as she slipped into a sheepish expression. "Chiron already decreed that you would be the third member and we were supposed to get out of camp without being spotted. The cave is closer to Half-Blood HIll, so…"

"So going back and forth would be bad." He finished for her, even as an odd sense of nostalgia washed over him. He pushed it away, however. No need to think of that now. He had a quest to go on; depression could wait. "So, how are we getting there?" He asked. Unsurprisingly, Hariel was the one who answered, grinning as she pulled a small bundle of cloth from her pocket.

"With my invisibility cloak, of course."

XXX

"Rachel? You up?" Percy called into the dimly lit cave, stretching as he stood from under Hariel's invisibility cloak. With three teenagers, two of whom were exceptionally tall for their respective ages, the demigods-both Norse and Greek- had been forced to crouch to fit underneath the enchanted material. Still, what was done was done, and they made it to the Oracle's cave undetected.

"In here," Answered a faint, but familiar voice, and with a wide smile, Percy pushed his way through the heavy curtains that marked the cave's entrance and led his two companions deeper. Inside they found a sight Percy knew intimately, having spent much of the last month there and somewhat more intermittent periods for the year before. In short, the space resembled nothing more than what most would call a bachelor pad. Plush couches, armchairs, and entertainment systems were scattered haphazardly around the large sitting room. The only things which might have seemed out of place were the large easels and vast amount of art supplies mixed in, but somehow they fit, and Percy wore a small grin as he glanced around the place.

"Hey there Rache. How're you doing?" The young woman he addressed, a surprisingly beautiful redhead with hair that rivaled Harry's for messiness, turned away from the half-finished painting she was working on with a wide smile.

"Percy! Wow, I never thought I'd see you up before noon, given a choice." Percy, blushing at her words, rubbed his neck sheepishly. A short glance back to the two girls who had followed him, however, killed the expression.

"I actually wasn't, Rache. Sorry to disappoint." He tried to flash his friend- practically best friend these days- a grin, but it was weak. Rachel, her eyes following his to Hariel and Hermione, reacted just about as he expected, face darkening as she settled on the darker-haired girl in particular.

"No, you weren't." Her voice, hard and cold, made Percy's eyes widen, and he took a sharp step backwards. Rachel was usually a warm and bright person, even when acting as Oracle. Percy only knew of one thing that could make her so angry, and the red-head's father was nowhere near them.

"Uh, Rache, are you alright?" he asked hesitantly. Yet more unease filled him as her forest green eyes, normally sparkling with joy, slid to him, sharper than shattered glass.

"You're here for a prophecy." It wasn't a question, but Percy nodded all the same. He was still too unsure of why his friend was acting like this to trust himself speaking. Slowly, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. After a long second of silence, she opened them once again, focusing upon Harry.

"You, Hariel. Come forward." The voice that spoke was not Rachel's, but rather the wispy, ancient speech of the oracle, and her eyes shone with a ghostly green light. Harry, caught off guard by the sudden summons, stepped forward slowly. When she came to a stop in front of Rachel, the redhead's hands shot out, grasping her by the shoulder tightly.

As soon as the two girls touched, something changed. Rachel's eyes, where before they had been green, shifted suddenly, becoming the cold grey of fog, and her mouth shot open to spill out a cloud of similar color. Percy, who had seen this kind of thing before, albeit in green, reached out a hand to Hermione, stopping the bushy-haired demigod from panicking. Harry, he could do nothing to help, but she had frozen in place rather than try to run, still caught in the Oracle's grip.

Slowly, the thick fog coalesced into three forms, each a blonde women of varying age and with eyes that burned like blue stars as they regarded the three teenagers. The first, a little girl who couldn't possibly be older than eight, spoke first, looking at Hermione with a piercing gaze.

 _Touched by lightning, child of the sea,_

 _And daughter of magic's heart make three._

The daughter of Hecate shivered as the words washed over her, but didn't respond. A moment later, Percy stiffened as he felt a feather-light touch on his cheek. Turning his concerned gaze from the girl, he found himself staring straight into the eyes of the second woman, a ghostly smile on her lips. She was not quite as young as her compatriot, closer to adulthood and with a beauty that would have set his jaw dropping at any other time. Her hand stroked down his cheek, softer than silk, as she spoke.

 _Tread the path through starry night,_

 _of Liar's blood, do not fright._

Even as the ghostly figure withdrew, Percy found himself blinking at the intimacy of her actions. He had interacted with the Oracle's spirit on several occasions, but this was… strange, to say the least. Never before had she directly touched him, and on every occasion the mist she produced was green, and lighter than this. Before he could contemplate further, however, he was distracted as all three spirit women gathered around Hariel, and the third, an ancient crone whose crooked smile held no shortage of mischief, finished speaking.

 _Broken faith shall disappear_

 _When the Aether's call you hear._

There was a breeze, the short rushing of air as if someone had just opened a sealed door, and the three fog was gone. Rachel, standing as if held up by strings, suddenly collapsed, and only Percy's rushed catch prevented her from crashing into the floor.

"Whoa, hey there. I've got you." The demigod said, lowering his friend gently to the floor. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled to see them returned to their natural forest green.

"Percy?" She mumbled tiredly.

"The one and only." He answered, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Are you gonna be alright? What happened?" Rachel, seeming to push past her grogginess, shook her head, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

"Something hijacked the Oracle." She said, in a tone of equal parts awe and fear. "Something far older, and much, much more powerful." She turned to look at Hariel, who was standing to the side uncertainly. "They came for you." Rachel said with utter conviction.

"I'm… sorry?" The younger girl answered, confusion crossing her features. "I don't really know what that was either."

"It's okay." Rachel said after a short moment of studying Harry, her previous hostility seeming to disappear. "I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually." Her smile, while weak, was genuine, and Percy wore one of his one as he saw Hariel return it. The son of Poseidon wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but at least his friends were getting along. The three were interrupted a moment later, however, by the sudden noise of a clearing throat.

"Yes well, that might have to wait. We should really get going." Percy groaned as he turned to meet Hermione's stern features. Somehow, he got the feeling that this would be a regular thing with her.

"MIone's right." Harry added, though she sounded somewhat reluctant about it. Percy had no doubt the girl had long suffered under her friend's iron fist. It was at least comforting to know he wouldn't suffer alone.

"Right." He said, to appease Hermione. "Rachel, are you okay here?" He asked, a hint of concern slipping into his tone. The redhead smiled at him, accepting his hand to help her up.

"I'll be fine, Percy." She replied, before darting forward to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks for worrying. Now go. You have a quest to complete. And give me a call soon, alright?" Percy, stunned and blushing fiercely from the sudden gesture, could only nod dumbly as Rachel returned to the painting she had been working on when they entered. Only Harry, grabbing his arm shook the boy out of his stupor.

"Come on, cupid." She said, rolling her eyes. "We can return to woo the fair maiden later." The flush worsened, but Percy allowed himself to be led out by his new quest-mate. Right before they stepped out of the room, however, he threw a quick glance back at Rachel, and the image she was working on. It had become a habit of his, this past month, to at least give his thoughts on her works. This one, however, he found himself glad he didn't have a chance to comment on. Utterly beautiful and haunting, it chilled his core to look at as It depicted a broken and twisted angel with wings of glass, weeping over the shattered remains of a dying world. And somehow, Percy felt it wasn't just a picture.

XXX

Nicol Bolas was utterly furious. His tail whipped around the forest he hid in, an ancient, secluded space deep in the heartlands of Wales. He had chosen it as his refuge for the magic seeped into the very bones of the earth, resonating with that flavor of power so very unique to the plane of Yggdrasil. Now, the Elder Dragon cared little for such details as he wreaked his wanton destruction.

"Nicol Bolas, destroying an ancient forest out of impotent rage. How the mighty have fallen." As the voice, an ancient rumble spoken in a language Bolas hadn't heard in a millennia, the wyrm paused in his destruction, looking to the sky for its owner. And there he saw him; the Spirit Dragon, silver feathers glistening with power and majesty, utterly as Bolas remembered.

"Ugin." The spat name was all the warning Nicol gave before launching himself skyward, eager to sink his claws into an enemy who could fight back. Rage burned in his veins, enough so that he did not question the appearance of his long-dead enemy. The instant he struck, however, Bolas knew something was wrong. His claws passed through the older dragon without resistance, as if he had never been there in the first place. Once in the air, Bolas stopped, turning to face the apparition.

"So. It would seem you truly are a _Spirit_ Dragon now, old worm." Ugin, or the image of him, at least, raised a draconic eyebrow, amusement crossing his features.

"An illusion." He stated, as if in answer to an unspoken question. "We have much to speak of, Nicol, and I would prefer to do so without violence." Bolas, as his rage slowly drained and mind cleared, crossed his arms, contemplating the rival dragon. He had slain Ugin on Tarkir, a thousand years ago- or so he thought. To see even a projection of his fellow Elder Dragon before him was quite a surprise, and not at all pleasant.

"A pity." Bolas stated finally, looking Ugin up and down. "I would have enjoyed killing you again."

"Your joy shall have to wait, Nicol." The spirit said, settling to land upon the wreckage of Bolas's fury. The golden dragon did not deign to land as well, instead remaining aloft with minimal effort. "We must speak upon the fate of the child." Instantly, Bolas's eyes, pits of molten gold that burned with malice, narrowed. So the Spirit Dragon knew.

"There is nothing to speak of." He said, finally allowing himself to descend. He remained crouched upon two legs, however, with his forearms crossed in contempt. "I can claim her any time I want, and there is little you can do to stop me." Normally, Bolas wasn't one to state his plans so boldly, but in this it mattered little. If Ugin truly had risen from the dead, though the golden dragon had only a few guesses as to how it might have happened, he had still been at rest for over a millenium. What influence he might have had on Yggdrasil would have withered and died long ago, while Bolas had carefully cultivated his own all that time. Ugin, however, seemed to disagree.

"Yet you haven't." the silver dragon stated, sitting back upon his own haunches and looking at Bolas with an equal amount of contempt. "Because, like I, you respect the might of Yggdrasil's inhabitants. And so, you rage." Ugin swept his gaze around the destroyed forest, before returning to Bolas, who glowered in hatred.

"What is it you want, Ugin?" He asked, not bothering to hide the distaste in his voice. How dare a dragon he had slain look at him with such judgement? The coward was too terrified to even show his face. He had no right.

"There is a man, to whom our fledgling Planeswalker's fate is tied to." Ugin stated simply, snapping Bolas's attention to him. That was not something he had been expecting. "He is a creature of great darkness and cunning, set to oppose the child's own light." The silver dragon looked into Bolas's eyes, glistening silver meeting gold over a vicious, deadly grin that could only be found on the face of a dragon. "If she is to ever achieve a greater destiny, the girl must face her darker half." For once in his long life, Bolas was left speechless as he stared at Ugin. Even his mind, far more vast and powerful than any of the pitiful lesser races, was left to stutter as he contemplated Ugin's words, and their meaning.

"You would orchestrate a war." The Elder Dragon finally concluded, a new measure of respect in his voice. He would not have suspected such devious cunning from his counterpart. He had known, of course, that the child who shook the Blind Eternities when her spark ignited was important. The blood of ancient royalty sang in her veins, and she was surrounded by powerful beings, any two or three of whom could make even Nicol Bolas think twice about confronting them. With her spark, born in the heart of the multiverse and blazing with power, the child herself might have been a threat to him in the fullness of time. Such beings, the ancient dragon knew from experience, attracted allies and enemies in equal measure. But for Ugin, who in all the centuries Bolas had known and fought him always espoused some ridiculous notion of nobility, to manipulate and take advantage of such, surprised him.

"A game, as it were, with all of Yggdrasil as our board." Ugin replied, his draconic grin widening. "I remember you were quite fond of them once." Bolas barely deigned to acknowledge that comment with a snort.

"Putting a pretty name on it changes nothing. You wish for war." Ugin, not at all perturbed by Bolas's statement, regarded the golden dragon with a disturbing ease.

"I have need for Riddle to be removed, and by the child's hand. You must strip her of her allies before making your move. And we are far from the only beings to have designs on either of them. War was inevitable." Bolas, to his own surprise, chuckled at the wisdom of this statement. It was true enough, but never had he thought to be agreeing with Ugin. Still, there was one tiny matter he could not understand.

"And why do you not simply try to destroy me yourself? Even if you win your little game, there is little guarantee of slaying me in the process." In an instant, all of Ugin's humor drained away, and Bolas blinked as he was suddenly faced with the Spirit Dragon's stoic face once again.

"We are the last of our kind, Nicol." He said quietly, the soft tone making Bolas's eyes narrow. "I have no desire for the Elder Dragon race to end." Bolas opened his mouth to speak, a scathing comment on his tongue, but before he could say anything, the apparition faded, leaving him alone in the devastated forest.

XXX

"I met an interesting person last night." Nicholas J. Fury, Director of SHIELD, looked up from the various reports scattered across his desk at the sudden voice. Only the fact that he recognized it kept him from going for one of the numerous guns both on his person and hidden around the office, not that any of them would have helped him against the voice's owner.

"Is there a reason I care about your personal life, Parthenopaeus?" The Director asked, his single eye giving Acheron a disapproving glare. He had asked the man-if you could even call him that- not to pop into places without warning. Especially not his personal areas, but as suggested by the anarchy symbol on his black backpack, Acheron Parthenopaeus didn't take orders from anyone.

"When she has enough power to give even me the shivers and an apparent knack for trouble, I should think so." Immediately, Fury straightened. Acheron Parthenopaeus was one of the most powerful beings he knew, classified as a high Alpha threat when on his own. Counting the various forces and allies that the atlantean god commanded, that rating shot so far into the Omega range it damn near rivaled Loki and Thor. Someone who could scare a man like that was worthy of great interest.

"Do you have a name?" Fury asked, trying not to sound too interested. Judging by the smirk on Acheron's face, it didn't work very well.

"I do." He said with a slow nod, dropping into the seat across from Fury and throwing his boots up onto the desk. Again, Fury's hand twitched for a gun. "But I'm more interested in what you can tell me."

"What makes you think I know her?" Fury asked carefully, watching the god's sun-glassed face. Acheron's head tilted at him curiously, a small smirk playing across his lips.

"SHIELD has a better-than-working relationship with MI13. the girl in question happens to be a British witch." _That_ froze Fury, and for a long second, the Director was silent.

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Hariel, would it?" He asked slowly, eyeing Acheron for reactions. All he got was a raised eyebrow, but in his experience that was as sure a sign of surprise as any.

"You know her?" The god's voice was curious, but there was an edge of something that set Fury's warning bell's off. It sounded almost like concern.

"Of her, mostly." he said in answer, sitting back in his chair. "You said you met her. How?" That, at least, got a reaction, even if it was Acheron's face going stone cold. Fury suspected the god had heard the duplicity in his statement.

"I found the kid wandering New York. Kept her company for the night to stave off unsavories." Acheron shrugged, but Fury could tell there was more to the story. He let it go, however. He trusted Acheron, as much as one could trust a being with the ability to end them in an instant, and chances were Potter had gotten home fine. The Atlantean god had a chivalry streak a mile wide when he took an interest, and considering the man had by all accounts dedicated his life to fighting evil, that was quite often.

"Why bring it to me, then?" Fury asked, with just a hint of confusion.

"I was curious." Acheron shrugged, but there was a tension to him that belied his words.

"And why didn't you just use your jedi mind powers?" Fury could practically hear Stark laughing him silly at using such a term, but it was the only way the giant god would ever describe his abilities. He made a mental note to leave viruses in place for the next time the billionaire hacked Shield as revenge. He was distracted from such thoughts, however, when it became Acheron's turn to freeze, going completely stiff.

"They didn't work on her." He said finally, tone utterly flat. "I couldn't get anything." Fury blinked at the statement. He didn't think he had ever heard of Acheron not being able to read someone. The atlantean's omnipotence was practically a law of the universe.

"What does that mean?" For a second, there was silence, as if Parthenopaeus was contemplating the question. Finally, however, he stood, walking over to the window. It was a small thing, a simple square looking out the side of the Helicarrier. Most days, Fury kept it shut to blend into the ship's hull, but every once in awhile, he had felt like a view. Now, the Director wondered if that was Acheron's fault.

"It means, Director, that Hariel Potter is important." The god said finally, turning back to look at Fury with a deathly serious expression. "Things are starting to change, Fury. The old things hiding in the dark corners of our universe are stirring. And many of those will covet someone as powerful as that girl." Fury, who had joined Acheron at the window in his silence, frowned.

"She is well protected." He said, thoughts of Avenger Tower coming to the forefront of his mind. If the Earth's Mightiest Heroes couldn't keep one girl safe, after all, who could? The words didn't seem to reassure Acheron, however.

"You don't understand, Director." the god said, shaking his head. "There is a war coming, one that will shake the very foundations of our universe. I've been feeling it for a while now, but after last year…" he trailed off, staring out at the window again. "The Avengers changed things. Their appearance shook up the grand order of the universe, and they weren't the only ones." Acheron turned back to Fury, and the Director could have sworn that beneath those predator glasses, the man was practically glaring at him. "Hariel Potter will play an important part in the things to come. Of that, I am certain."

Fury met his gaze steadily, steel apparent in his own eyes. "We will do what we can. As we always do. And if war comes for us… then we'll give whatever bastards come looking for a fight exactly that. And one hell of one too." For several long seconds, the two men stared at each other, each a commander in their own right. Both had lived through wars, and neither had any doubt as to the gravity of their situation. Fury understood perfectly. War was coming. People would die, shit would go down, and chances were they woudn't stand a chance against whatever was coming. But he had faith in Humanity. And even if Earth went down, they would sure as hell take someone with them.

"Allies are a good first step." Acheron finally broke the silence, giving Fury a sharp nod. "I'll leave you to your work." The man turned, before disappearing as if he had never been there in the first place. Fury, a sudden flood of tension leaving him, collapsed into his chair. Well. That had been interesting.

XXX

 **So… that happened. I expect a veritable storm of reviews from you all for this, so don't disappoint.**

 **Also… SHIP MATERIAL!**

 **(Dives into Nuclear Bunker and slams door shut)**

 **Have fun!**


	6. Anger

Loki was not a hyperactive man. Even when anxious, few though those times were, he did not pace, or fidget. Instead, he often remained seated, the very image of calm and poise. Now, however, as he sat at a table in the Avenger's living area, he seemed as if carved from stone, a silent and imperious statue overlooking everything. Natasha Romanov, the only one of his teammates not in a consummate panic, found herself shivering as she watched him carefully.

It had been several hours since the Avengers, most still sleeping in the early morning, were woken by a panicked shout from Stark. Hariel, the daughter of Loki and newest resident of the Tower, was missing, with only an open window and a small, handwritten note as evidence. The note itself was short, a simple message stating the child's intent for a walk and to return shortly, but considering both the Avenger's and Hariel's reputations, few were inclined to believe she had actually left it herself. As time wore on, and no sign of the missing girl came, the sentiment grew even further.

Natasha grimaced silently as she thought of that. The idea that someone could sneak into Avenger's Tower undetected and make off with Loki's daughter was not a welcome one. The god of magic had warded the place to Hel and back, by his own count, and Tony's technological security outmatched that of even Shield's most secure installations. The only sign of a break-in at all was a simple short circuit of Hariel's window latch, which had been quickly determined to be caused by a side effect of then there was the child herself to consider.

Natasha hadn't spoken with the child much yet, for various reasons. One was that she had only remained at the Tower for a day and a half before disappearing. In that time Hariel talked with no one beside her own father and Stark, who appeared to have taken responsibility for 'culturing' the girl. Yet despite her distance, Natasha _had_ watched Harry closely, and what she saw… disturbed her.

There was something broken about Hariel Potter, subtle though it may be. Natasha had observed how she seemed to flinch every time someone spoke to her, or Tony reached out a hand. The girl moved around the Tower with a caution reminescent of servitude, and unless directly engaged in conversation remained silent. It was almost as if she were afraid to be noticed. And her eyes… Natasha recognized the girl's eyes. Not their shape, or color, distinctive though they were, but their spirit, of ancient pain and the determination to survive no matter how hard the world had tried to grind her soul to dust. Natasha saw them every time she looked in the mirror. And now, with the child missing, presumed taken by those who would wish her harm… Natasha felt something cold and deadly coil in her stomach. Then she looked at Loki.

The sight of the ancient god instantly made Natasha's bowels loosen, and her anger shrink. It was still there, of course, but the Shield agent knew without a doubt whatever she felt paled in comparison to Loki. Rage, ice cold and sharper than the bite of the void, radiated from him in a terrifying aura, even as he sat amongst the frantic Avenger's each of their own doing everything they could to find the missing Hariel. Tony was consulting with Jarvis, using his vast array of contacts and technology to hunt across the city, Thor was gone to Asgard looking to borrow the Watcher Heimdall's eyes, Steve paced and checked the clock before looking back at Loki himself, and Bruce sat on the floor in a criss-cross position with his eyes closed as he shook in an attempt to stop from going green. Clint had left to contact Fury. And Natasha sat in her seat, silent while green eyes scanned them all sharply and kept watch.

It was strange, really, just how worked up the Avenger's had gotten over Hariel. None but Tony had interacted with the girl closely, yet Natasha could see the clear tension and worry in Steve's every movement, and Bruce's eyes flashing green were a clear enough sign. Thor and Loki were understandable-they were her father and uncle, after all- and Stark, who had a surprisingly soft heart once one got to know him, had clearly been impressed upon by Harry, but the rest had no real connection. Yet here they were, each ready to tear apart the city of New York to find her.

Natasha tensed suddenly as a sharp click rang throughout the tower, quiet enough that if not for every one still in the room having superhuman senses, it might have gone unnoticed. She looked at Loki, and both their eyes narrowed. That had come from Hariel's room, which meant it had to be the window they had carelessly left open. The agent swept her gaze across the room, and silently the others prepared themselves. Steve moved to stand by the entrance, lacking his shield but Natasha knew he was plenty deadly regardless. Bruce, snapping open his eyes to show them glowing a solid green, simply stood, ready to shift at a moment's notice. Loki, for his part, remained where he was, though his poisonous gaze rested upon the entrance and Natasha could feel the air sharpen as he gathered magical energy for an attack. The redhead herself shifted where she sat and flipped a knife from under her seat's cushion, one of many she had hidden around the Tower, and Tony grabbed a spare repulsor that was lying around, aiming it carefully. There came a short muttering, as if the intruder was talking to someone, and then with an astounding lack of caution, they walked through the door.

"Uh, hi?" As Hariel Potter stood in the doorway, waving sheepishly at the various Avengers scattered about the room ready to kill her, Natasha couldn't help but laugh quietly. Instantly, every eye in the room snapped to look at her, and she stopped, though a smirk remained on her face.

"Well, well." Natasha laughed again as she saw the terrified look on Harry's face. It seemed the girl recognized that her disappearance hadn't exactly gone unnoticed. Even as the redhead felt her tension easing, amusement rose to take its place. "You seem to have caused quite a stir, kid." Seemingly unbidden, Hariel's eyes slid over to Loki, who remained looking as if he had been carved from stone, and gulped.

"I, uh, left a note." This time, it was Tony who laughed, weak as it was.

"Yeah, we found it. And then automatically assumed it was a trick left by a kidnapper to slow us down, like any _reasonable_ adult would do." That shocked the girl from her reaction, features shifting from surprise, to disbelief, and finally, to anger.

"Right," Harry drawled, shooting the inventor a dirty glare as she forgot her fear, "Because it is entirely reasonable that someone kidnapped me from right underneath the _Avengers'_ noses." Natasha smiled from where she sat, amused by the snarky answer. Stark's resulting pout didn't help any as he started to look like a kicked dog. Before either of the two could say anything, however, they were cut off as Loki finally spoke.

"Hariel." The word was quiet, but with an edge that could cut through palladium, and instantly the fear returned to Harry's face, sending a surge of pity through Natasha. "Would you be so kind as to ask your guests to remove themselves from hiding? It is rude to speak while invisible." For a long second, everybody was silent as they stared between the two Asgardians. Then Hariel, whose eyebrow had raised with surprise, turned to the apparently empty spot behind her, jerking her head. A moment later, two teenagers simply appeared as if they had lifted a veil. In fact, Natasha noticed the girl of them rolling a bundle of cloth up carefully.

"Hey." The taller of the two, a boy with wavy black hair and sea-green eyes waved in greeting, looking surprisingly comfortable in the Avenger's presence. Even his friend, a young woman who looked almost a year older than Harry with a bushy mane of brown hair, chocolate-warm eyes, and a bookish demeanor, looked incredibly nervous, though that might have had something to do with being caught sneaking into the Tower.

Again, there was a long moment of silence as all the Avenger's bar Loki finally recognized that this was not a moment to simply stare in surprise and burst into a clamor of confused yelling and talking. Natasha restrained herself, but only just, as even her own curiosity at both the two teenager's method of stealth and their identities burned in her thoughts. Even so, it was a long while as noise filled the air until Hariel and her apparent friends were left standing in the middle of the room, looking utterly confused.

"Quiet!" Natasha finally barked, taking pity on the teens. Instantly, her teammates fell silent, staring at her in surprise. She swept an imperious gaze around the room, before finally settling on Loki, who was giving her a thankful smile. "It looks like Loki has a lot to talk about with Harry and her friends. Why don't we give them some space." There was a moment as both Steve and Tony looked like they were about to protest, but a withering glare stopped that, and both men shut their mouths. Bruce simply gave her a curious gaze, his head tilted slightly as green flashed in his eyes, and walked towards the nearest exit. After another second, the other two followed suit, with Natasha close behind. Just before exiting, however, she paused, looking back. Loki gave her a grateful nod, and even Hariel smiled weakly and waved. The redhead nodded back, before stepping through the door and leaving them to their conversation.

XXX

It wasn't long until Harry, Hermione, and Percy were all seated around the room, each staring apprehensively at the asgardian god who still sat unmoving at the table. For nearly a minute, no one moved, each staring at each other until, finally, Loki broke the silence with a sigh.

"What am I going to do with you, Hariel?" there was something in that sentence, a sort of sardonic wryness that brought a smile to the girl's face. She shrugged lightly.

"Not ground me?" her sheepish grin seemed to amuse her father, as Loki smiled softly, shaking his head.

"Perhaps I should. Unless, of course, I misunderstood human culture and sneaking out of the house is _not_ a punishable offense." Hariel blinked at that, because, really, she wouldn't know, at least in regards to a normal household. She had always been careful, in previous instances, to avoid the Dursley's notice, but that was more out of fear that _anything_ she did would be punished. It seemed, however, that her little stunt had caused quite some distress to her father.

"I… wouldn't know." Harry said slowly, and instantly the amusement disappeared from Loki's eyes, replaced by a familiar anger.

"No, you wouldn't." There was a slight shift to the side, and Hariel glanced over to see Hermione biting her lip. On the other side, Percy's brow was furrowed as he looked back and forth between them, and she could only hope that they kept their questions to themselves. She didn't particularly feel like explaining the Dursleys at the moment, even to 'Mione, who knew some of it already. Hell, Loki had hardly seen the worst of it, and she would like to keep it that way.

"I must admit, Hariel, that I have little idea what to do." Harry was drawn back to the conversation as Loki spoke, his gaze sweeping over the teenagers. "I have been a father before, but that was a long time ago, and for only brief periods. I possess little experience in raising a young woman like yourself." It was Hariel's turn to react, raising an eyebrow at the words. She han't known she had siblings, even dead ones. But that wasn't important at the moment, so she pushed the thoughts aside. Before she could speak up, though, Loki continued, throwing her off-guard. "Your punishment, if any, can wait, however. First, perhaps you should explain why you felt it necessary to bring two Olympian demigods to the tower, and who they are."

Harry was shocked at Loki's words. He knew they were Olympians? But how, and why did he care? Before she could muddle through her thoughts, Percy spoke for her, extending a hand.

"I'm Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. We're here on a diplomatic mission, and your daughter is our escort." To his credit, Loki didn't even hesitate as he took the demigod's hand and shook it firmly.

"I know your godly parent, Mr. Jackson. You practically reek of the sea and its power. And you, Miss.…" Hermione, who appeared to be surprised when Loki turned to her with a courtly bow and outstretched hand, practically squeaked. When, after several seconds, it became apparent that he was waiting for an answer, the bushy-haired witch carefully took it, speaking softly.

"Her-hermione, your grace. Hermione Granger." The prince of Asgard raised an amused eyebrow at the formal address, even as he raised her hand to his lips. Harry, torn between horror and humor at the gesture and Hermione's terrified expression, found herself wishing she had a camera.

"Miss Granger, then. You must be a daughter of Hecate. It is rare one meets another blessed by magic itself, and I would be remiss to forget the sensation." Hermione blushed at the back-handed compliment, drawing Hariel's laughter. Even when the bushy-haired witch turned to glare at her best friend, she just shrugged nonchalantly.

"What? He's got a point." She said with a playful smirk, one Harry knew her friend could never resist. Finally, Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Harry, I would greatly appreciate it if you _didn't_ laugh at me in front of _Loki,_ for Merlin's sake." The girl in question simply raised an eyebrow, before glancing over at the man who was watching them in amusement.

"You do realise he's my _father,_ right? It was pretty much inevitable." Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but at the last second seemed to think better of it, turning away resolutely. Again, Hariel laughed at her victory, before turning back to Loki. "Anyways, where were we, Dad?" The asgardian smiled, leaning reclining back into his seat.

"I was about to ask by what Mister Jackson meant by diplomatic mission. As far as I am aware, Olympus and Asgard have had no contact for the last millennia or so, and do not intend to change that." Unbidden, Hariel winced, making Loki's gaze sharpen upon her. "Hariel," He said quietly, his voice cold. "What did you do?"

"It's totally not my fault!" HArry started, before shrinking as her father's eyes seemed to flare with an emerald fire. "Okay, maybe it is. But i swear I didn't know I was walking into a camp for half-bloods when I went to see Hermione. I thought it was just a summer camp!" For a moment there was silence as Loki's stare continued to bore into her, and with every second she shrunk further and further into her seat until she was practically buried in it. Finally, the prince spoke in a voice colder than ice.

"You willingly walked into Olympian territory without warning, breaking the ancient treaty between our people?" Hariel, gripped by a sudden, overwhelming sense of disappointment, found she couldn't speak as the words seemed to become stuck in her throat. She had seen Loki angry, when her expulsion letter came, but this… she felt as if she were standing in the center of a raging blizzard, with all its terrible might weighing down in judgement. She swallowed heavily.

"I didn't know." Even to her, the words sounded weak, and she could tell they didn't satisfy Loki as he continued to silently seethe at her. It was only when Percy, a stark determination etched on his face, stepped forward that the weight of his stare shifted and she could breathe once again.

"Loki Odinson." he said, formality coating every word in a way that seemed oddly fitting. "Your daughter has made a mistake, but one done in ignorance. Please, don't judge her for it. We are here to prevent war, not start it." There was silence as Loki looked at him, a blistering cold consideration in his stare. Harry found herself amazed as the son of Poseidon didn't even flinch, his sea-green gaze meeting Loki's without fear.

"And how," The asgardian prince finally said, with only slightly less of a chill edge to his words, "do you intend to do that, Mr. Jackson?" Percy narrowed his eyes at the question, but it was Hermione who answered, voice quiet as she tried not to meet Loki's eyes.

"No one except us and our camp instructor Chiron knows Harry was there, sir." As soon as the witch started talking, his gaze shifted to her, and Hermione shrunk much like Harry had under its withering weight. The younger woman, however, had been emboldened by her friend's defence, and spoke up, tempting her father to look back at her.

"We want to renegotiate the treaties, Dad. If they change before anyone figures out I was there, and it looks like Olympus decided it themselves…" she trailed off as Loki's face seemed to soften. It was only a little, like the difference between steel and iron, but no longer did he seem quite so angry, even as he finished Hariel's thought for her.

"Then there will be no transgression, and peace remains. It may work. With Asgard's reentrance into midgardian politics, such a move would make sense." Finally, after a long, _long_ moment of silence as Loki seemed to contemplate the three demigods, he sighed, all of his anger vanishing in an instant. In its place was left a weariness that seemed to hang over him like a cloud. "Why must things always be so complicated?" There wasn't an answer, until a sudden giggle disturbed the heavy silence. Every eye was drawn slowly to Hermione, who held a hand in front of her mouth in surprise.

"I… well," She said, shying away from the stares. When not a single one seemed likely to look away, she finally, continuing. "It's just that this sort of thing always happens around Harry. She practically invented the word complicated." As Loki and Percy bnoth glanced at the dark-haired witch to confirm this, Hariel found she could only shrug, and answer few words in answers.

"Potter luck. It's a gift."

XXX

As Loki observed the disturbingly normal house, he couldn't help but wonder just how he ended up in this position. It had not taken long, after Hariel's rather blaise comment, for a series of logistics to be worked out. Requesting an audience with the All-Father, no matter how important, was not something done easily, and certainly not quickly if it were to retain any sort of discretion. So it was decided-after asking permission from Stark, who seemed ecstatic to meet Hariel's friends for the express purpose of extracting blackmail material- that the two Olympian demigods would reside within the Tower for several days as Loki worked to earn a meeting for the teenage diplomats. It wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to, as it would also mean introducing Hariel to his father, something that had icy fear clenching his heart. Odin had never been fond of Loki's children, and in time locked each and every one of them away. While the Asgardian prince might hope Odin wouldn't risk Loki's return to insanity by treating Harry similarly, there was no guarantee to anything of the sort. But, as worrying as that was, it had no bearing on his current mission.

It had come to Loki's attention, shortly after his daughter's rather climactic return to the Avenger's Tower, that Hariel had left many of her possessions in the care of her relatives when fleeing England with him. When asked if she would like to retrieve them, however, she became coldly dismissive.

"I have no wish to return to that place for a few books and quills." She had said, green eyes flashing with simmering hatred. "If you really care so much you can go yourself. The Dursley's keep most of my things in the cupboard under the stairs, and the rest are hidden under a loose floorboard in the second-right bedroom." Suffice it to say, Loki was curious at the answer. Surely, his daughter wasn't treated so horribly she would leave all her possessions behind simply to avoid a house? He had been aware her relatives treated her in an unsavory manner, especially that overweight cousin, but what little he had observed didn't deserve such a reaction. And so here he was, standing at the edge of Number Four Privet Drive's walk, with a furrowed brow. Unable to discover anything in particular from its outside beyond a mostly immaculate garden that seemed to have suffered over the past few days, he started towards the door.

It was a surreal sensation for the god as he rung the doorbell, and settled back onto his heels to wait. It wasn't long, however, before the door was answered by a harried woman that he vaguely recognized as hariel's rather horse-ish aunt.

"Whatever you're selling we- Ah! Hello. My apologies, what may I help you with?" Loki raised an amused eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone when Petunia Dursley went from annoyed to overly cheerful, even while revulsion coiled in his gut as she raked her eyes up his long, lithe form hungrily.

"Good Morning." The god of lies said, struggling to force the words out of his teeth. This woman seemed highly unpleasant from her batting eyelashes and obviously fake smile to the nasty gleam in her plain brown eyes. "I am here on behalf of Hariel Potter." In an instant, Petunia straightened, her smile disappearing to be replaced by a furious glare.

"Oh, what's the little freak done now? I swear, if she's gotten herself arrested I'll-"

"Freak?" Loki suddenly cut in, voice frozen as he suddenly peered down his nose at the woman. Even with her disturbingly long neck he was taller, his Asgardian height giving the man an advantage. The word burned in his mind, a ringing death-knell for what little consideration he had possessed a moment previously. "What do you mean by that?" Surprisingly, Petunia didn't seem to notice the ice in his tone as she tsked disgustedly.

"She's a demon-child, I swear. Always smoking and drinking, the delinquet. I imagine it runs in the blood- Ghrk!" The woman was cut off suddenly as she found herself slammed back into the doorjamb, one of Loki's hands clutched around her neck in a vise-like grip. She choked under it, staring at his suddenly enraged face with wide eyes.

"You will _not_ speak of my daughter that way." The words, somehow, came out evenly, sharp enough to cut adamantine, and as he spoke them, Loki allowed the first illusion he had ever cast to fade away. Slowly, his skin paled and rippled, until it was the icy blue of frost giants, and his eyes glowed blood red. Petunia's eyes widened even more, and the hand that had been scrabbling at her throat in an attempt to loosens Loki's grip froze in shock. He sneered at the expression, a sick pleasure rising up in his stomach. With a flick of his wrist, the Asgardian-Jotun threw her down the hall just behind her front door and all the way through the house until she crashed against the back wall. There was a sickening crunch, but Loki spared her only a glance to ensure the woman wasn't dead. Then he stepped over the threshold and walked slowly to the cupboard. Once in front of it, he paused, his rage fading to be replaced by fear. He didn't know what he would see behind that door, but something told him it wouldn't be pleasant.

The cupboard opened with a creak, the lock dangling from where Loki had been forced to rip it out. What the prince saw there, however, was nowhere near as peaceful, and in an instant Loki's rage had returned. Hariel's possessions were there, just as promised, but beyond that he could also see the remnants of what looked like bedding. This… this had been Harry's bed, at one point. He could feel the girl's magic, deeper and heavier than her items should warrant, hanging about the cupboard like a thick veil. He didn't no how long ago, but she _lived_ in this cupboard, like a penned animal.

In an instant, the items were gone, magically teleported to the Avenger's Tower's living room. Ordinarily, Loki would have sent them to Hariel's room, but he was in no mood for subtlety. The Asgardian-Jotun turned slowly to look at his daughter's aunt. She lay on the floor haphazardly, an arm and leg bent at odd angles and her eyes shut with unconsciousness, Loki took a step towards the broken form, which he could hear still breathed, but stopped when something piqued his hearing. The next instant, he whirled to catch the bat which had been descending towards his head.

Dudley Dursley was almost nothing like his mother, a small and obscured part of Loki's mind mused as he tore the makeshift weapon from Dudley's grasp and planted a foot on the boy's sternum. Even with nearly as much girth and weight as his whale of a father, the teen went flying, crashing into the kitchen and bowling over a table set in its center. Loki's lips tilted upwards at the sight of him flipping end over end, before settling in the broken ruins. He took a step forward, before pausing. As a click sounded so quietly that Loki would have missed it had he not been human, the god crouched, allowing Vernon's bullet to go flying over his head, ironically slamming into the man's own son's arm with a loud crack. Loki turned to face Vernon where he stood on the stairs, his face now set in an amused scowl. The fat man's jowls trembled as he suddenly found himself staring down an angry god of Magic.

"Ah, Vernon Dursley. Just who I wanted to see." With a simple spell, Loki dragged Vernon off the stairs to crash in a heap at his feet, smiling cruelly downwards as the man then struggled to lift himself. A calm foot on his back stopped that, and again Loki spoke.

"You see, Mr. Dursley, my name is Loki Odinson. Of course, I'm sure you noticed that; I am quite famous." There came a whimper, a shift, and Loki shoved downwards. The crunch of Vernon's nose against the floor was oddly satisfying. "Something you might _not_ know, however, is that Hariel Potter is, in fact, my daughter. I only learned this recently, of course. Otherwise, there is no reason she would be living in this pit of _monstrosity._ " Again, there came a whimper, but this time Vernon didn't try to move. Loki found he was disappointed.

"Now, I don't want to waste more breath than necessary on you pitiful excuses for sentience, so I will say this once. If I find even a _single_ scar on my child that can in any way be traced back to you, I will return to this house. And when I do, your worst nightmare will be _nothing_ compared to the horrors I visit upon you. Is that understood?" Loki took the deathly silence to mean acquiescence, and with a final shove, he stepped over and off the fat man beneath him before stalking out the door. At the curb he paused, glancing backwards. Then with a wave of his hand, every window in the building exploded outwards. By the time the glass had settled, he was gone, dissolved as if into the very wind.

XXX

 **Well, that was fun, and now my index finger is yelling at me, so I'll leave this here. Don't forget to Read, Review, and enjoy what's left of your Halloween!**

 **Also, this is why we don't let Loki go to the Dursley's alone. Shame on you, Harry.**


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